Heroes, Villains, and Everything in Between
by Emmeebee
Summary: A collection of drabbles focusing on different characters from the HP universe. Primarily for the Build a Zoo Challenge. Last four featured characters tagged.
1. Peter

Peter scurries down the crowded street, darting between people's feet before ducking through a hole and into the failing Muggle hotel he's been staying at for the past few weeks. It's rare for them to have three bookings a night, let alone ever be full, so it was easy enough to cast a Confundus Charm on the receptionist to make her conveniently forget to ever let this room out to guests. Still, he makes sure never to enter in human form and to set up Muggle Repellent Wards around his door as an extra precaution.

As soon as he is safely inside the hotel room, he shifts back, feeling his body contort and lengthen as it turns from rat to human. Sighing, he settles down on the bed. It's lumpy and uncomfortable, and he has no doubt that that's part of the reason for the hotel's struggles, but it's better than the streets.

 _I can't keep doing this,_ he thinks.

He can't show his face in public again – even outside of Wizarding Britain, the risk of running into someone who recognises him is too high – and he doesn't have the connections or resources to acquire Polyjuice Potions. His only options are to try to assimilate fully into Muggle society, which is as confusing and inaccessible to him as ever, or to live as a rat until he can think of another option.

Neither possibility appeals to him, but the latter is slightly less distasteful.

The next time he goes out, he'll start looking for a family to take him in. That or take his chances at Magical Menagerie; it has a decent enough reputation, although he doesn't relish the element of chance that comes with it.

His hand drifts towards the small box of photographs and letters that he managed to sneak back home to collect, but he stops himself before he lifts the lid. All that will come of it is torture and guilt.

Peter regrets his decision every day. He knows he doesn't have the right to mourn his friends' deaths – Sirius would probably defy all the odds and break out of Azkaban to kill him at the thought of him having the gall to do so – but that doesn't change the fact that he wishes everything were different.

He loveshis friends – still, even now. Their time together at Hogwarts was, and will probably always remain, the best days of his life. When he first joined the Death Eaters, he wasn't trying to pit himself against them. He wasn't even thinking about it; he didn't have the time. He was just acting on instincts.

Now, all he has is time to think.

And to regret.

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A/N: For the Build a Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'Peter Pettigrew'


	2. Mary

Mary knows her friends think she's a coward for refusing to fight in the coming war, even though they would never say it outright. She can see it in the way they don't meet her eyes when they're talking about their post-school plans and glance at each other when she's talking about hers. It's clear that they don't mean for her to notice, but her friends have never been any good at being sly.

She doesn't begrudge them their judgement. After all, _they_ are all going to fight – and most of them have less at stake than she does. James and Sirius could easily get through the skirmish unscathed if they wanted to, keeping their heads down and declaring neutrality; they wouldn't be _favoured,_ but they wouldn't be attacked, either. They're fighting for their morals, and for their friends – not for themselves. In comparison, Mary is a likely target; between her Muggle heritage and the week-long suspension Mulciber received when he cursed her two years prior, there are probably a number of Death Eaters who would like nothing more than to be the one to take her out.

But that's the thing. She has felt what it's like to be cornered, to be helpless, to feel the boils grow on her skin and know that's just the prelude. She has felt it, and she never wants to be in that position again. Even the idea of being at the end of a friend's wand in DADA chills her – how much worse would it be to stand across the battlefield from a true enemy?

She refuses to do that to herself. She would rather snap her own wand, take her parents, and disappear deep into the Muggle world, changing their names and appearances and personalities and _everything_ so that nobody will ever find them.

If that makes her a coward, then so be it.

* * *

A/N: For the Build a Zoo Challenge for the prompt 'Mary MacDonald'


	3. Michael

Unrolling the paper to be met with a frontpage article from Rita Skeeter, Michael rolls his eyes and tosses it aside. He can't hold in the frustrated sigh that has become an almost instinctive response to seeing, hearing, or reading anything to do with that woman. Apparently, being the ex-boyfriend of the Chosen One's girlfriend is a newsworthy matter. It feels like every time Ginny and Potter are seen together in public, Skeeter wants a quote from him about how heartbroken he is or how he's concerned that Ginny will leave Potter the way she left him.

Morag insists he brought it on himself. He wishes he could argue otherwise, but he really can't.

The first time Skeeter came to him, he was at the pub after a hard week at work. Well past drunk and all too happy to vent about schoolyard slights, he told her everything. About how the whole time they were dating, Ginny was obsessed with Harry Potter. About how it felt like she had one foot out the door from the start. About how she started dating Dean almost immediately after they broke up.

He neglected to mention how he'd been more focused on Quidditch than her at the time, or how he'd started dating Cho almost as quickly as she started dating Dean. Bitterness blinds, after all; it wasn't until he read the newspaper a few days later that he realised what he'd done.

But by then, it was too late.

Most of his old classmates don't care. Potter has forgiven him, saying that he understands how Skeeter manipulates and deceives, and while Ginny hasn't, she has agreed to be civil so as not to make the gossip worse. Still, the fallout has been bad. Half of the population blames him for trying to get between the couple, while the other half wants to hear more about how their heroes' lives are just as flawed as their own. Either way, it isn't pleasant for him – or for them.

But that isn't the worst of it; a few screening spells on his incoming mail were enough to shield him from most of the public backlash. No, the real issue is that Skeeter is like a shark; now that she has scented his weakness, tasted his blood, she refuses to give up the chase. Every time he walks down the street, he tenses up, worried that she'll appear out of nowhere to ambush him again.

He can only hope it will die down after Ginny and Potter's wedding.

Somehow, he doubts it.

* * *

A/N: Written for the Build a Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'Michael Corner'


	4. Daphne

The first time she transformed, Daphne almost drowned – or whatever it was called when an aquatic animal was stranded on land. She didn't have control of the change yet, so she spent most of the time helplessly flapping about on the floor of the seventh-year girls' dormitory. Thankfully, her instincts kicked in before it was too late, responding to the lack of water by sending her hurtling back to her human form. She stayed at the foot of her bed, wracking in deep breaths and trying not to think about just how close she'd come to dying. Then, shaken and unable to calm her racing heart and mind, she went downstairs and asked Theo to talk at her until her nerves settled.

The experience was terrifying, but once she had time to recover, the knowledge that she would be at home both on land and at sea sunk in. Times of strife called for extra precautions, and the ability to just swim away from it all was a reassuring one indeed. Of course, that would mean leaving Astoria and their parents behind, which she would never do.

Still, she was thankful for the option.

The second time she transformed, she was more prepared. During one of her free periods, she ducked away to the Prefects' Bathroom, waded through the warm water until she was waist-deep, and forced herself to shift. Magic rushed through her as her body contorted into its new shape, her skin turning smooth like rubber as her nose lengthened and her legs combined. She hadn't had the presence of mind to really take in the experience the first time, but this time, she forced herself to take note of everything. To her surprise, there was no pain, just a sense of oddness that was over as soon as it came.

The confined space of the bath was limiting. What was spacious beyond belief as a human seemed miniscule as a dolphin. But it was safer than transforming in the Black Lake. Giant Squids were known to eat whales on occasion, and while she had never heard of them eating dolphins, she didn't want to risk it. Not unless she had to. Besides, she wasn't yet confident enough in her abilities to maintain her form to risk changing somewhere where she couldn't easily return to the surface if need be.

She registered through Slughorn after that. Despite his posturing about how dangerous it could have been to attempt an Animagus transformation without an experienced supervisor, he was willing to pretend he'd guided her through it for the sake of the legalities. She'd always known he would. After all, becoming an Animagus while underage was quite the feat, and that was sure to put her on his list of people to watch out for in the future.

The decision to go through him proved more fortuitous than she could have imagined. Due to his extensive network of contacts, he was able to get her officially registered without alerting anyone – such as the Carrows – who might report her achievement back to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. In Britain, Animagi were few and far between, and that could have made her a target for recruitment if word got out.

Of course, that meant she had to be more careful about transforming after that, barricading the door to the bathroom any time she wanted to use her newfound abilities. It would have been better to avoid using them altogether, but being in her dolphin form gave her a sense of peace that was hard to come by in such dark times. Even decades later, when she looked back on the terror and confusion of the war, the one bright spark was her memories of doing laps of the bath, shedding her fears and anxieties for an hour at a time.

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A/N: Written for the Animagus Challenge with the prompt 'dolphin' and the Build A Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'Hogwarts'.


	5. Kingsley

The office of the Minister for Magic was spacious and physically welcoming, with comfortable furniture and wide windows that let sunlight stream into the room. It was the safest place in the building, warded so tightly that even the most prodigious curse-breakers would struggle to get in without his permission.

Yet despite its strengths, Kingsley had never worked anywhere that felt more distant and cold. He was used to the bustling collaboration of the Auror Department – to the sense that there was always somebody nearby who would be willing to lend an ear, and a brain, if needed. Even when they were working on different cases, the Aurors shared the same goal: to protect civilians and bring criminals to justice.

But now that he was Minister, he felt more alone than he ever had. Confidential paperwork crossed his desk dozens of times a day, and even his secrets had secrets. There were so many things that he couldn't discuss even with his closest friends for fear of a security breach. He had his advisors, of course, but he never knew whether he could truly trust them. Everybody had their own agendas in the Ministry.

 _This is why I never wanted to go into politics,_ he thought. _I would have been much happier as Head Auror._

Nevertheless, the Order had needed someone in power who they could trust to be fair, and Kingsley had been the only real option. If he'd declined, someone like Alfred Greengrass – proper and law-abiding but a little too attached to tradition – would have gotten in, and any legislative changes would have been slow and hard-won.

Maybe Kingsley's parents were right. He'd always scoffed at the idea that the best leaders might be the ones who least wanted the position, reasoning that such people probably just knew themselves well enough to know that they didn't suit that kind of life. But perhaps there was some truth to it after all.

He hoped there was, in any case. If not, what was he doing there?

* * *

A/N: For the Build a Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'Kingsley Shacklebolt'.


	6. Lavender

The wind rushes through Lavender's hair as she soars through the sky, and she laughs out loud at the sensation. Her hair is going to be horribly knotted by the time she lands, and it'll be a pain to brush it out, but she doesn't care. It's worth it. All the stress of exams and essays seems to roll off her as she flies, leaving her feeling more peaceful and relaxed than she has in weeks. Her new broom turns like a dream with even the slightest shift of her weight, and it lets her move with more grace and mobility than ever.

If she could, she would live her life in the air. Up here, none of the problems that seem so vitally important in the world below mean a thing. Arguments with Parvati, problems with Ron, concerns about classes – they all stay safely on the ground.

She needs to do this more often; it's been too long since she last flew.

The main issue is that she doesn't want people to know about it. Living in such close proximity to so many other people, it's hard to keep anything a secret. She has succeeded so far, mostly by going out sparingly and only when she knows that everyone else is occupied.

It isn't that no one knows; Parvati and Seamus do. But she loves the knowledge that it's something for them and them alone. Anyone else would try to convince her to join the House team or challenge her to a race, unable to understand how someone could love to fly for the joy of it yet hate having bludgers hurtle at them.

Funny, that.

Tilting her broom handle down, she makes her way back to the ground, dismounting behind a large oak tree with a huge grin on her face and a new lightness in her heart. Tension gone from her back and hair hopelessly mussed, she tucks the broom into her robes – one of the many benefits of wizarding fashion – and walks back up to the castle, taking her time to enjoy her last few moments in the morning sun.

* * *

A/N: For the Build a Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'Lavender Brown'.


	7. Marauders

Sirius examined his sketch for a moment, turning it this way and that with an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression on his face. Then, he nodded briefly to himself and handed it over to Remus. 'Look alright?'

'Mate, you know I can't draw. Anything resembling a room is going to look perfect to me.' Remus took his quill and drew a small symbol on the back of the piece of parchment. It was some sort of organisational system that made sense to nobody but him.

Filing, Remus called it.

Boring, the others called it, although they knew it was necessary. It was easy to remember where places like the Great Hall went, but none of them fancied the idea of playing jigsaw puzzle with secret passageways and abandoned classrooms that they'd never been in before and would probably never have cause to be in again.

'It looks like we're done, then,' Peter said. 'We haven't missed anything?'

'Nah,' Remus said. 'That should be the last one.'

James bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. 'We're ready to go test it, then, yeah? I've tested the spell a few times, but we should probably do it again just in case.'

Peter shook his head. 'We trust you.'

Remus nodded. As much as James might like to slack off during lessons, he had a sharp focus when it came to anything Marauder-related. With a venture of this size and magnitude, there was no way he hadn't done his due diligence in making sure the spell was perfect. None of them wanted to see months of hard work go down the drain in an instant due to an untested spell.

But seeing the uncertainty flicker on James' face, Remus added, 'But there's no harm in doing it again. Sirius can draw up a sketch for you to test it on while Peter and I start to put the pieces together.'

Sirius let out an exasperated sigh. 'Sometimes, I think the only thing you all want me for is my drawing ability.'

'Wow,' Peter said, amusement flickering in his eyes. 'You should hold onto those moments of self-awareness.'

'Why, you – '

Peter stuck out his tongue and sprinted off, Sirius sprinting after him. 'Come here! I'll show you self-aware!'

As Remus and James watched, Sirius tackled Peter and pulled him into a headlock, messing up his hair as they both laughed.

'Thanks for having my back,' James muttered to Remus. 'I don't know why I'm so nervous about this all of a sudden.'

'It's because it matters, so you're afraid of messing it up.' Remus' gaze didn't waver from their friends once.

'You're not going to mess us up,' James said quietly. 'You're stuck with us now; you know that, right?'

Remus smiled and clapped him on the back. 'I'm glad.'

* * *

A/N: For the Build a Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'James Potter'.


	8. Severus

As Severus ran up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, passing members of the Order who let him by without a second thought, his thoughts were fixated on what he was going to have to do. If he was going to kill the Headmaster, he had to make sure he was ready. Unforgiveable Curses became easier with time as the soul became desensitised to their horror, but they still required genuine emotion behind it.

Throwing up his Occlumency walls, he imagined himself locking up any positive emotions towards the Headmaster in a trunk and shoving it in the back of a dark, dank Potions supply closet. He knew it was there; how could he not? He knew the exact location of every ingredient and potion he stored in there. But he forced himself not to think of it – to make it as small and unimportant as he could.

Then, he focused on every single thing Albus had ever done to wrong him. He pictured the shock on the Slytherins' faces when the House Cup victory was ripped away from them at the last second. He called to mind how patronising Albus had sounded when he'd told him that the real lesson from his near-death experience with Remus in werewolf form was that he shouldn't have been in the grounds after hours. He remembered Lily's face, cold and still in death, and how Albus had used that to manipulate him.

By the time he reached the top of the tower, hatred burned in his chest. There was a part of him, in the back of his mind, that told him that it wasn't too late – that he could still go to that corner of his mind, pull out that trunk, and unleash the truth. But he was wrong. It was too late, and it had been from the moment Albus put that cursed ring on his finger.

 _Forgive me,_ he thought as he burst into the room, and even he didn't know who he was seeking mercy from. Albus? Lily? The Order? Potter?

He supposed it didn't matter. Forgiveness would never come.

* * *

A/N: Written for the Build a Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'Astronomy Tower'.


	9. Amos

Amos' world screeches to a stop at the sight of Cedric's lifeless body. The rest of the audience is screaming and clinging to one another, but he's thousands of miles away. All he knows is him and Cedric and _it can't be true_ —

How can he — it — _everything_ be so still? He's always been so active, so full of life. It's like the outdoors calls to him personally. Seeing him there, unmoving, is unnatural. It's wrong.

Cedric is — _was_ — an excellent wizard. He was as fast and athletic as anyone in his year, and he was at the top of the cohort in all of his subjects. Quick-thinking and talented, he never failed at anything he set his mind to. As soon as he put his name forward for the Triwizard Tournament, he would have thrown his all into preparing for it, determined to do his House and his family proud.

How can _he_ be the one who didn't make it back?

Something happened in the maze. Something happened, and the only one who knows what that is… is Potter.

Potter, who shouldn't have been part of the competition in the first place, yet found a way to get around the age limit to participate.

Potter, who lost a Quidditch match to Hufflepuff just last year because of Cedric's superior speed and sportsmanship, yet tried to find excuses for why it wasn't his fault.

Potter, who always seems to seek out centre stage, even going so far as to take over the article that was supposed to be about all _four_ champions.

What would Potter do to make sure no one upstaged him in the tournament — to make sure all his lotting didn't go to waste?

Or, more to the point, what _wouldn't_ he do?

Would he kill?

* * *

A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Amos Diggory


	10. Remus

Remus has never seen himself as a hero. He's always been the type of person who goes with the flow, even when everything in him is whispering that it's wrong. At first, he didn't realise that was what he was doing, but over time, it's become blindingly clear.

Accepting the position of prefect even though he knew Dumbledore was only offering it in the hopes that he'd rein his friends in? Deceptive, especially since he ended up using it to cover up their tracks.

Standing passively by when James and Sirius harassed Snape and made a mockery of him in public week after week, month after month, year after year? Morally wrong and cravenly, not at all like the lion he was supposed to be.

Putting thousands of children, professors, and animals in danger by sneaking out of the Shrieking Shack every full moon with his friends despite knowing what will happen if he bites someone? Even worse; some would call it reprehensible.

Trying to abandon his wife and unborn child out of fear that his actions may have finally had consequences? Dora may have forgiven him, but he never will.

After all the wrongs he's done or let happen, how can he say he's a hero for fighting with the Order of the Phoenix? Yes, it's dangerous; yes, it's the right and brave and _heroic_ thing to do. But he's already proven time and time again that's not why he does things.

James and Sirius joined the resistance the moment they finished Hogwarts, and he went with them. What's to say he wasn't just going with the flow then, too? He believed in the cause, but if he didn't, would he have joined anyway?

Deep down, he knows that's not important. He _did_ believe in it, and he never backed down from a mission or fight, no matter how dangerous. That's what's important — at least, that's what Dora says.

No, he's not a hero. But maybe, when all is said and done, he'll be able to be considered a good man.

* * *

A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Remus Lupin


	11. Rolanda

No one ever really notices Rolanda. As the only part-time professor at Hogwarts, she doesn't board at the school. Instead, she comes in on the days she's needed for lessons or matches and works at a sports store in central London for the rest of the week.

Most of the students and professors forget her most of the time. What's out of sight is out of mind, especially when "out of sight" is hundreds of miles away. That bugged her at first, making her feel like she wasn't a true part of the teaching staff.

It pays off when the Carrows take over. They're strict on communication with the outside world, banning Floo calls and monitoring all owl post in case anyone tries to contact Potter or tell their parents about the conditions at the school. Under their iron rule, nothing gets out during the school term unless they want it to.

Except for her. As a pureblood who has never spoken out one way or another about politics, all it took to win their trust was a few vague comments that implied she agrees with He Who Must Not Be Named. The words tasted like ash on her tongue, but they had their purpose.

Convinced of her loyalty to them, they allow Rolanda to come and go as she pleases… and, with her, the information she knows about life on the inside.

She has to be careful about how she uses it, of course. If she told the _Prophet_ any specifics, her cover would be blown, and her life forfeit. But she can pass information onto people who support Potter — information about the conditions at Hogwarts, the Carrows' defences, and how those on the inside are coping.

It may amount to nothing, but it may also be the thing that sways the tides when Potter finally returns.

Either way, it's worth the risk.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Rolanda Hooch


	12. Cornelius

Cornelius hadn't started out wanting to be the Minister for Magic. He'd just wanted a good, stable job in politics, something where people would respect him and he would be able to influence the direction of the nation. Being the one in the limelight hadn't appealed to him; with the attention came criticism and judgement, and he'd never been any good with that.

At one time, he'd thought Dumbledore was going to run for Minister with Cornelius as his deputy.

That would have suited them both very well. Dumbledore was well-liked, intelligent, and magically talented; he was suited to leading the charge. Meanwhile, Cornelius would have been able to assist him with the minutiae of leadership, trawling through legal documents, helping with press relations, and making public appearances.

It would have been perfectly suited to both of their strengths.

But then Dumbledore had refused the post, recommending Cornelius in his stead. The public, trusting Dumbledore implicitly, had thrown their full support behind him.

And Cornelius had been left with a decision — not that it had been a hard one. After all, if one was presented with the gift-wrapped opportunity to become the Minister for Magic, one would have to be a fool to decline.

In hindsight, he knew that was the moment everything had changed. Before then, he'd been willing to make the tough choices and champion unpopular opinions. As soon as he was the one who was centre stage, however, it had been different.

What if he made the wrong one? What if the tide of public opinion turned and battered him against the rocks? What if he went down in history books as the worst Minister for Magic in British history?

From there, everything he did was to stay in power and keep the boat steady.

And so he betrayed his nation and his people for a job he had never even wanted.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Cornelius Fudge


	13. Scorpius

Scorpius knew his father had made some terrible decisions during the war. Although his parents had shielded him for it for as long as they could, they had sat him down to explain it when he was ten, almost a year before he left for Hogwarts for the first time.

Finally, everything had made sense — why people turned away from them in the street, why his father didn't have many friends, why his parents made him play with Muggle toys despite them not being related to any Muggles...

While he saw his father as his father, others knew him as the man who sided with He Who Must Not Be Named and wanted nothing to do with him. His father didn't want to keep in touch with old friends who were still loyal to him and didn't know how to make new ones who weren't. And his parents were trying to make sure he didn't go down the same path as his father by introducing him to Muggle things from a young age.

They had done the best they could by him, and he was glad they had been so forthright about it. Finding those secrets out at school would have been torture.

Not literally. Since learning more about the Death Eaters, that word had new gravity.

Still, it had done little to prepare him for the judgement he faced when he reached Hogwarts — he didn't think anything could have. His professors watched him with never-ending suspicion, waiting for him to show signs of being his father's son, and his classmates avoided him so they wouldn't be caught up in it when he was.

Oddly enough, the only people who accepted him were the last people he would have expected to: Albus Potter and Rose Weasley. They helped him get through the snide comments and dark looks.

In a way, he couldn't blame the others. His father _had_ done evil things, and it made sense for them to distance themselves from those things.

But he'd had nothing to do with it. _He_ hadn't made those choices. _He_ hadn't chosen that path.

Yet everyone wrote him off all the same.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Scorpius Malfoy


	14. George

George avoided people after the war, only leaving his flat when he had no other choice. Verity had been working at the shop long enough that she was able to run it without assistance, leaving George to focus solely on product development, and magic meant he was able to live mostly self-sufficiently.

Every now and again, he had to leave to buy food, but even then, he just Apparated a few towns over and then went to a Muggle grocery store. There, he was anonymous; nobody knew him or what had happened to Fred. Nobody watched him with sad eyes or offered him their condolences, either not realising or not caring how it only made it harder for him.

Why had it been Fred? George had been standing right next to him. Why hadn't it been George instead?

People told him he was lucky as if it were a good thing, but he didn't _want_ to be lucky if it meant life without his twin. Sometimes, he wished he'd been unlucky and had left the world with Fred, just as he'd come into it with him.

But there was no way he could tell anyone that; that would only worry them unnecessarily. While he wished he'd died instead of Fred, or even along with him, he had no intention of joining him now. That was the last thing Fred would have wanted.

Fred would have insisted the world couldn't cope without their brilliance living on in at least one of them, and George knew he owed it to them both to continue the legacy they'd started. While Verity could run the shop with her eyes closed, she didn't have the inventive streak required to design new products.

Without George, the shop would fail. Not in one year, maybe not in five, but eventually. The customer base would dwindle as new products decreased in quality, and the demand for the current products would drop as others tried to replicate their success.

Then, one day, the shop would close.

Then, at some point, all memory of the twins would fade.

George couldn't allow that to happen. Not after they had worked so hard to develop their products and build the shop from the ground up. Allowing that all to fall apart was something for which he could never forgive himself.

Sitting in his living room, listening to the silence downstairs, he made a decision.

Perhaps it was time for him to show his face again. The customers needed it; they were still coming, still buying things, but according to Verity's reports, the atmosphere had been stilted since Fred died. Nobody wanted to laugh out of fear it would offend anyone, and even the workers' best efforts couldn't break that.

Yes; the customers needed it. And maybe he did, too.

Silence in a joke shop; that was a right shame. It _should_ be loud; it _should_ be chaotic; it _should_ be lively.

Before he could second guess himself, he rushed to the shower, making himself presentable for the first time in days.

It felt like he was sprinting forward in a headlong charge, ready to topple at any moment. All he could do was run with the momentum, putting one foot in front of the other, and hope his bravery didn't go before his footing.

He donned the Moustache of Disguises he'd been working on and walked downstairs, casting the Activation Charm. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he took a fortifying breath and then stepped out with the biggest grin he could muster.

It felt fake, but one day, maybe it wouldn't anymore.

'Who wants a sneak preview of an upcoming release?' he asked.

Heads turned at the sound of his voice. Over by the counter, Verity slowly started to smile. But everyone was silent.

Then, a child let out a squeal of excitement and rushed forward, and the spell was broken. People hurried to form a circle around him, chatting in excitement.

For the first time since Fred died, he didn't mind being the centre of attention.

He only hoped he would eventually be able to forgive himself for being the one who survived.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: George Weasley


	15. Hannah

Whenever anybody thought of heroes, they pictured a Gryffindor: brave, foolhardy, comfortable with attention and accolades. After all, in stories, the hero was usually someone who did it all alone. They didn't need people, but people needed them.

Hannah had always thought that was sad. How lonely it must feel to be so isolated, so cut off from other people. Even as a little girl, she had never wanted to be a hero because she had never wanted to live like that.

She would prefer to be wanted than needed, to be liked than useful.

Her views changed on 2 May 1998. Every single of-age person in the school was given a choice whether to stay and fight or go and be safe.

A number of people left. Many more stayed.

To her, every single person who stayed, who risked their life to end the tyranny of He Who Must Not Be Named, was a hero.

But while many of the people who remained were Gryffindors, many weren't. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins all fought alongside one another; they all made the choice to be a hero.

Not a single one of them stood alone. They needed each other, and they were needed by each other. They supported each other, and they were supported by each other. They were a community then more than ever.

And when the dawn broke on newfound peace, they grieved the fallen and celebrated the victory together, too.

It was over the following weeks that her new perspective solidified even more.

Slowly, news of what Harry, Ron and Hermione had been doing during the past few months spread. She heard about their trials and tribulations, about how they wouldn't have survived without one another.

Everyone who had stayed to fight for human life had done something heroic, but nobody could deny that Harry Potter was the prototypical hero. How many times had they turned their backs on him over the years? How many times had he gone head-to-head with He Who Must Not Be Named before anyone else knew?

Yet even he needed people to survive. Even he wouldn't have made it through without his friends.

Perhaps the idea of the storybook hero was a myth after all.

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A/N: Prompt: Hannah Abbott


	16. Minerva

Minerva's biggest regret was failing Harry Potter. The moment she'd that Dumbledore intended to leave him with his aunt and uncle, she'd known it was wrong. But Dumbledore was a brilliant, complicated, and mysterious man, and it had always felt like he was ten steps ahead and to the left of everyone.

She'd questioned him, but in the end, she'd trusted his judgement. He had put Harry down on the doorstep, wrapped in a blanket charmed to keep him at the right temperature and protect him from harm, and they had left.

It was the worst decision she had ever made, even worse than walking away from the man she loved.

For years, she had stayed away from the Dursleys' house. Deep down, some part of her knew all was not right there. Instead of checking for herself, she let herself believe Dumbledore's assurances, not wanting to risk discovering she had been right all along.

And then Harry had arrived at Hogwarts. He was thin, but he was alive, and he had made two close friends quickly. She had been so grateful to see him in the same vicinity as Granger that she'd overlooked the girl's obvious lie about how they had come to be there in the first place.

 _Surely,_ she'd told herself, _I've just been worrying over nothing._

And then he had caught Longbttom's Remembrall on his first time on a broom since he was a toddler.

 _He is a natural at Quidditch and is clearly quite athletic,_ she'd thought. _I have definitely been worrying over nothing._

But then Wood said Harry had never played a team sport in his life, and when he'd suggested doing something Muggle over the holidays to keep fit, he'd said he'd never be allowed to.

And then he had worked out things he had no business knowing, such as the Philosopher's Stone and the Cerberus, while being blissfully ignorant to things he should have noticed, such as all the students from other houses who wanted to be friends with him. He was perceptive, but he wasn't observant, and she found it hard to reconcile the two.

Still, she hadn't acted, for when she had approached Dumbledore about her observations, he'd said he had someone watching over Harry during the holidays and making sure he was safe.

It was only years later, after the war was over and Harry had long since left the Dursleys' house for the last time, that she realised how bad things had been for him while she had been wilfully turning a blind eye.

After that, she had paid his aunt and uncle a visit. But the whole time she had been there, she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that they weren't the only ones who needed a good scolding.

She had never harmed Harry herself, but she had allowed it to happen. By deciding to trust Dumbledore's plans, she had condemned him to it, and by convincing herself there was no cost, she had left him to deal with it alone.

Minerva knew that she had done many good things in her life, but how she had failed Harry Potter for something for which she could never atone.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Minerva McGonagall


	17. Bellatrix

Bellatrix didn't care about right and wrong. Morality was a code made up by people who weren't strong enough to stand up for themselves and wanted other people to do it for them. Anyone who claimed somebody should stop something on the basis of it being "bad" or "illegal" was just admitting they were too weak to stop the other person themselves.

She wasn't weak. She had no compunctions about taking what she wanted and stopping what she didn't. And that was why she, rather than they, was at the Dark Lord's right-hand side.

Her sisters and cousins didn't agree with her.

Narcissa was the most enlightened of the bunch. Of course, married to another Death Eater, she had to be. While she believed some things were intrinsically good or bad, she understood the importance of power and was willing to do what she had to in order to protect her son.

On the other extreme, Sirius had been a lost cause even before he went to Hogwarts, always asking the wrong questions.

She had hoped Andromeda and Regulus would exceed their siblings' examples, and for a time, they had. However, eventually, they had both fallen and sunk like dead weight. Andromeda had run away from her pureblood betrothed to wed a mudblood, and Regulus had abandoned his Death Eater vows in an attempt to kill the one to whom they had both sworn their lives.

How had they been so weak? How had so many Blacks fallen so far? They were supposed to be made of sterner stuff.

But while they had all failed, she refused to. If they were all unworthy, then she would have to be brave and strong and dedicated enough for all of them. She would single-handedly carry the reputation of the House of Black if she had to.

Bellatrix would not be swayed.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Bellatrix Lestrange


	18. Pansy

Pansy refused to blame herself for suggesting that they give Potter up. It wasn't that she _wanted_ the Dark Lord to win; she'd seen enough of his tyranny over the past few months to make sure of that. But it had been the logical thing to do when faced with the odds they had lined up against them. One life for the lives of everyone in the castle? That wasn't an even trade; it was a steal.

But when she'd said it, nobody else had agreed. They had moved to protect Potter and withstrain her, as if she had a chance against any of the professors there.

That was rather her point, though, wasn't it? If she had to duel a professor one-on-one, she would lose. And they weren't even trained in fighting! They were _teachers,_ not _Aurors_!

 _They_ would have been hard-pressed to defeat an experienced Death Eater who was out for blood. How much less hope would _she_ have? Or any of the other students?

It was an unwinnable battle.

It didn't help that Pansy's uncle was one of the people on the other side. How could she fight against the Death Eaters, hoping they died, when any of them could be the man who taught her the alphabet?

Even worse, what if he _was_ able to fight _her_? Even if she made it through, she didn't think she could survive knowing that he had been able to raise his wand against her.

So when they were given the choice to stay or go, she left, not even looking back once. Despite her best efforts, she did feel guilty for leaving the others behind when every wand counted, but that was their choice. If they saw the odds and thought they had a chance to win, then more power to them. Maybe they were better duellists than she was.

But in her mind, for her, staying was a death sentence.

Later, when she heard that the defenders had won and her uncle had survived, she was genuinely pleased. No matter what the rest of her cohort might think about her, in her opinion, that was the best-case scenario.

Still, she refused to blame herself. She had been acting on the knowledge available to her at the time. The fact that they beat the odds didn't mean the odds didn't exist.

No, Pansy wasn't going to blame herself.

Except for the small part of her that did.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Pansy Parkinson


	19. Merope

The moment Tom left the shack where he had been living with his wife, he turned, pulled off his gold wedding band, and threw it with all his might at the front door. It hit the wood and bounced back, coming to rest where other houses would have displayed a welcome mat.

He hoped Merope found it. He hoped it hurt her.

Shaking his head, he turned and ran, not wanting to linger for any longer than he had to. Merope was sleeping, convinced he would stay until morning to discuss things with her, but there was no knowing when she'd wake up.

The more distance he put between them in the meantime, the better.

How had she done this to him? If she genuinely loved him, how had she slipped him a love potion, tying him to her by force and breaking off his relationship with Cecilia in the process?

His stomach roiled, but he pushed himself to run faster. From what Merope claimed, she had stopped dosing him with love potion, convinced that their love was strong enough without it. But that didn't mean she wouldn't do it again if she caught him.

When he finally reached Little Hangleton proper, he slowed down. Drenched in sweat and wearing only a coat over his sleeping clothes, he was sure he looked quite the fright. But he didn't want to risk causing more of a stir by sprinting through the town square.

Instead, he took the back roads to the house, trying to avoid anyone seeing him. Before long, he was knocking at his old front door.

His mother answered, exclaiming in concern when she saw his haggard appearance.

'I've left her,' he said. 'I can't explain, but I was wrong to marry her. She isn't… She isn't a good woman. She's a heathen, and… and I can't stay with her any longer.'

'I don't understand,' his mother said, 'but come in before anyone sees you so dishevelled. Your father has some clothes that will fit you, then you can tell me everything over a hot breakfast.'

Gratefully, Tom stepped inside. He didn't think he could ever explain what had happened in a way his parents would understand, but a change of clothes and something to eat were exactly what he needed.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Merope Gaunt


	20. Helga

All Helga wanted was to build a safe place for children to live and learn. Adult witches and wizards were able to defend themselves against the burnings; most were able to evade capture in the first place, and for those who didn't have the chance to, fire resistance charms were easy to cast.

But children had less control over their magic. They were more easily detectable, they didn't have the ability to Apparate away, and it was harder for them to cast charms in a pinch. In the battle between Muggle- and wizarding-kind, it was the young who suffered the most.

Spurred on by that knowledge, she was the first to suggest the creation of a school specialised in magic. Taking all wizarding children away for several months out of the year and having them do most of their magical experimentation there decreased the chances of their neighbours noticing anything amiss.

The only person she knew who was thorough and methodical enough to make it work was Rowena, so she quickly recruited her friend to the cause. However, they both knew they needed more help; young witches and wizards needed male authority figures as well as female ones. And so Rowena asked Salazar, who asked Godric, and their little quartet was formed.

Salazar was the one who suggested they prohibit students from practicing magic outside of school without their parents' supervision. After all, he claimed, their efforts would be moot if the children continued to cast spells in the presence of Muggles.

Helga knew he had ulterior motives. He had made his stance on Muggle-borns well-known; they should be accepted, but only if they were willing to leave their non-magical relatives behind. The other three founders had overruled him, but it seemed he was looking for other ways to encourage compliance.

Nevertheless, he had a point. Witches and wizards understood the risk of their child being detected by Muggles and were equipped to handle any danger that arose. What were Muggle parents able to do if a mob came and took their child away?

So while Helga disagreed with his intentions, the vote to implement that rule was unanimous. When they presented their plans to the Minister for Magic, he decided to extend the restriction to the whole of the nation.

There were many other compromises that she had to make in designing and receiving approval for the school, but she knew it was worth it. What they were working on was revolutionary in their part of the world; it only made sense that some people would be initially opposed to it.

But finally, Hogwarts was built, and the first wave of students joined. At first, there were so few classes that Helga, Rowena, Godric and Salazar were able to teach all the students by themselves. But as the years went on and parents and students alike told their friends about the benefits of the school, the cohort grew, and with it Hogwarts' reach.

Day by day, year by year, Hogwarts became more of the safe haven Helga had originally envisioned.

She had never cared much about legacies, but if this was hers, she couldn't have asked for anything better.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Helga Hufflepuff


	21. Cho

Cho knew Marietta had done the wrong thing by betraying them to Umbridge. The DA wasn't just some little club; it was _important_. Cedric's death had shown how ill-prepared they were for the world outside the castle walls, and Umbridge certainly wasn't going to do anything to change that. If anything, she wanted them to do the opposite, leaving them open and vulnerable.

But even setting that aside — after all, Cho knew Marietta had never believed that He Who Must Not Be Named was really back — everyone could have been expelled for breaching so many of the High Inquisitor's educational decrees. They would have been, if it weren't for Dumbledore's sacrifice. The brunt of Umbridge's fury would have come down on Harry and his friends, yes, but not even Cho would have escaped punishment.

If Marietta had felt so uncomfortable about attending, she should have stopped going. She could have told the others that she was too uncomfortable to continue and simply gone about the rest of the year as if she had never heard of the DA. Nobody would have been any the wiser, least of all Umbridge.

Except Cho knew why she hadn't. After all, it had taken hours of wheedling for Cho to convince her to attend the meetings in the first place. It was only when she'd said she wouldn't go if Marietta didn't that her friend had finally agreed to give it a chance.

Secretly, Cho knew the only reason she _did_ agree was because she was worried about her after… after Cedric. To her shame, she'd used that to convince Marietta to come.

Marietta had probably assumed Cho would have tried to convince her not to leave — that she would have argued against it until she caved in.

And Marietta would have been correct.

That was why, no matter what Harry insisted, Cho couldn't blame her. Marietta had broken the rules in an attempt to help Cho, risking her own reputation and that of her parents in the process, and she had done it with minimal complaint. What kind of friend would Cho be if she abandoned her now that _Marietta_ needed _her_ support?

Not any kind worth having.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Cho Chang


	22. Tom

If there was one thing the most politically powerful people in Tom's cohort cared about, it was blood purity. To them, a person's parentage determined everything about them; how strong they were, how they acted, who they became.

Tom didn't agree. His parents had been nobodies; a Muggle man who had abandoned his wife to die and his son to hell, and a pureblood woman who had been so magically stunted that she hadn't even been able to save herself. If who they were determined who _he_ became, he would have been at the bottom of cohort in all of his subjects.

Nevertheless, it was a useful agenda. Nobody knew who he was, his bad experiences at the orphanage making him reticence to discuss it with them. It didn't take much effort to convince his classmates he was from a distant offshoot of a small but proud pureblood family. After all, with his magical prowess, they _wanted_ to believe him.

From there, manipulating them was so easy that it was disappointing. Tom used their prejudice to motivate them, assuring them that purebloods would have pride of place in the new world he was creating, and that his supporters would be held up even higher than that.

He never outright said he agreed with their views. He didn't have to. They heard his promises and took them to mean that he was as much of a traditionalist of them.

None of them ever seemed to suspect that he himself was only a half-blood yet intended to keep himself firmly at the top of this new social structure.

In truth, while Tom hated Muggles for the actions of both his mother and the people at the orphanage, he was largely indifferent to half-bloods and mudbloods. After all, he was one and had been raised as the other.

But at the end of the day, all people were merely a means to an end. Powerful purebloods were there to support him, half-bloods were there to keep society running, and mudbloods were there as bargaining chips.

That was all there was to it.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Tom Riddle


	23. Orion

Orion buys Grimmauld Place because of Sirius. Originally, his plan was for his family to live at Black Manor forever; he has their own wing there, allowing them to have some privacy while also having constant access to his father and all of the traditions of the place. It's where Orion grew up, and it's always been where he wanted his children to grow up.

But, ironically, they're too out in the open there. The house-elves and human gardeners are loyal to the House of Black, but it would be easy for someone to talk them into seeing Sirius' wild, irreverent ways as a threat to the house.

It has happened before. He still pales when he thinks of how close the house-elf came to drowning the boy — how she may have succeeded if Orion didn't arrive in time. All because an enemy of the house convinced her that Sirius was destroying his grandfather's reputation.

Orion's refusal to join the Death Eaters is only going to make their family more of a target. While he agrees with their values, he has no interest in militarising them. Given his status in society, he is one of the few people who can say no to such a request and walk out of the room alive.

Except that Sirius' rebellions are starting to attract notice. Orion saying no is one thing; Orion saying no and raising a son who is open about believing the exact opposite is another. Orion has been receiving negative attention lately from people whom he knows are part of the Death Eaters, and he doubts it will be long until that attention shifts to his oldest son.

In all likelihood, an "accident" will be arranged to either push Orion into joining or punish him for refusing. And the incident with the house-elf has proven that they're too vulnerable at the manor.

And so they move.

Grimmauld Place is one of the last houses anyone would expect them to buy. Located in a Muggle area, dingy, and cramped, it's a far cry from the manor where he was raised.

But that's the appeal. No one will look there, and by the time he layers on every protection measure he can think of, no one will be able to find it if they do.

Orion knows Sirius would say he isn't a good father, and maybe that's true. Regulus _is_ his favourite, and he _isn't_ overly affectionate.

But everything he has done has been for his family in one way or another.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Orion Black


	24. Alice

The first time Alice felt the baby kick inside her stomach, she knew she would do anything for him. He was not even there yet, but he was already bringing joy to those around him.

That feeling only grew stronger as time progressed — as she endured the pain and inconveniences of pregnancy, as she spent hours bringing him into the world, as she fed him and held him and looked into those innocent eyes.

As far as it was within her power, she would ensure that he had the best life he possibly could. She would do virtually anything, give everything, to protect him from danger and heartbreak.

Before he was born, the war was important.

Afterwards, it had a face: Neville's. Every risk she and Frank took, every choice they made, it was to make sure Neville didn't have to grow up in such uncertain times.

If she were still fighting on the frontline, every curse she cast would have been for him, too. Watching Frank leave every morning was difficult, but she knew it was necessary.

When He Who Must Not Be Named fell, they celebrated. There was still much to be done, but with time, the world would be made safe once more. Neville would never have to know how to assess the layout of a battlefield or duel for his life.

Neville did not understand why they were so happy, of course, but he smiled his gap-toothed smile and danced on their feet.

Mere days later, just after Frank returned from dropping Neville off at Augusta's house for the evening, _they_ arrived.

The moment the front door of their house blew off its hinges, Alice knew it was too late. The Death Eaters had perfected the art of home invasion, encircling each house with wards to prevent escape or messages being sent out before moving in.

They tried to get out anyway, but they couldn't Apparate and the Floo had been disconnected.

And so they faced the intruders head-on, fighting a losing battle because the only other choice was unconscionable.

It didn't last long. Bellatrix and Rodulphus were experts at that, too.

But when Rabastan demanded that they turn over Neville, Alice knew that was one battle they would never win. No matter what they did or threatened, they would never make her _or_ her husband turn over their son.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Alice


	25. Alphard

One of the main reasons Alphard gave Sirius the money was guilt.

Even when Sirius was a little boy, he had been wayward. The most attractive path was always the rebellious one, and any path that had him following his parents' wishes was to be avoided at all costs. Time after time, he had been punished for his disobedience, and time after time, Alphard had turned a blind eye.

After all, while Alphard liked the boy, he _had_ broken the rules.

But as Sirius grew older, the punishments had become harsher and had been given more freely. Anything, even just a toe out of line, could result in a verbal tongue-lashing that would have made grown men tremble.

And he saw the effects it was having on him. Orion and Walburga might have believed they were doing their best to bring their oldest son into line, but they were merely pushing him further away.

When Sirius ran away from home, Alphard wasn't surprised. He hoped the boy would be able to reconcile with his family one day, but he understood the reason for his actions; everything his parents had been doing had made it hard for him to stay.

He kept tabs on Sirius from afar, the fact that he seemed to be having a good life easing some of Alphard's conscience. At least he had options, his friends from school having closed in around him to give him a place to stay and fight off anyone who mocked him for having been disowned.

Still, Alphard couldn't help but feel that it all might have been averted if he had stepped in earlier himself. If he had let Arcturus know about his concerns, or asked Orion and Walburga to ease off, or told Sirius that he was welcome to move in with him, would the outcome have been different?

Orion and Walburga weren't the only Blacks who had let him down. Would Sirius have been proud to carry the name of Black if Alphard himself had stepped up for him?

But Alphard was a coward, and he refused to defy his family with so few years left to live. Not when Arcturus was paying for around-the-clock medical care for him.

The one thing he could do, however, was prioritise Sirius in his will. While he recognised the others as well, he focused on Sirius, leaving him a larger portion than he would have otherwise.

It wasn't much, and it was far less than he should have given. But, he hoped, Sirius would see it for what it was.

An apology.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Alphard Black


	26. Godric

Godric _enjoyed_ being a hero. People acted as if it had to be some sort of burden, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.

For a start, there was nothing more thrilling than matching wands with another and proving himself their better. The more dangerous his opponent, the sweeter the victory. Stepping in to save someone from oppression was hardly an imposition.

Besides, he had been blessed with good looks, charm, magical talent, and physical prowess above the average wizard. Using those traits to help people who were unable to help himself gave him a sense of satisfaction that nothing else could. Out of everyone present, _he_ was the only one who was able to save them. Knowing that their lives were better for his inclusion in it was a heady feeling indeed.

However, he couldn't deny that he rather liked the acclaim as well. He wasn't as intelligent as Rowena or as cunning as Salazar or as giving as Helga, but his was the name people remembered and celebrated. It wasn't because of who he was, but what he did and the relief he brought into other people's lives.

His feats had been immortalised in bards' songs and playwrights' tales, and it was common for him to enter a new town only to find that they already knew of him. He hadn't had to buy himself a drink in years; most of the taverns around town had patrons who knew someone he had saved and were more than willing to cover the costs of a night of drinking.

Helga thought he should refuse, of course, arguing that he had enough gold to buy his own drinks and that he didn't know what those sickles might mean to the patrons he accepted them from. To her, accepting recompense for a good act negated the selflessness of that act.

But to him, it was only fair. Just as he used his blessings to help them, they were using theirs to do him a favour in return. In some cases, he was the only reason they were alive to spend those sickles, and he trusted that they would not give more than they could afford to give.

Besides, he did not do those acts _for_ the rewards; he simply accepted them when they came his way.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Godric Gryffindor


	27. Charlie

Charlie knew nobody blamed him, but that didn't keep him from blaming himself. For months, letters from home had been strained. Even as people had assured him that everything and everyone was well, the underlying tension had been clear in every sentence.

He had known they were all in danger. He had known they needed as many wands as they could.

Yet he had stayed away. Instead of returning to England, where his parents and siblings were preparing to fight He Who Must Not Be Named, he had stayed in Romania to tend to the dragons.

At the time, it had made perfect sense. There was nothing practical he could offer that they couldn't get from anyone else over there, and it was foolish to quit his job when he had no way of knowing when or even if fighting would break out. Years of building his career and reputation would have been thrown away for, potentially, nothing.

After all, nobody else had quit their jobs to dedicate more time to the resistance effort.

In hindsight, that seemed the height of selfishness. No, Bill hadn't closed quit his job, but then he'd opened his house up to shelter Harry and spoken out publicly against the Death Eaters. No, the twins hadn't closed the shop, but then Fred —

But then Fred had given up something far greater.

That was the rub. While Charlie had been living in Romania, trying his best to convince himself he was just imagining the tension in the letters, his little brother had been in his last few months of life.

If Charlie had come home, would Fred have survived? Could he have, somehow, made a difference? He didn't fool himself into thinking he could have made the war end sooner, but what if he'd taken out one person in the months leading up to that battle?

That person could have been the one who got Fred. Or maybe, by them not being at the battle, the person who _did_ get Fred would have had to be elsewhere when that fateful spell was cast.

When Charlie was a child, his mother had asked him and Bill to look after their little siblings. To protect them.

He'd failed.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Charlie Weasley


	28. Barty

Barty had no qualms in lying to his father. Confronted by his father's strict rules as a child, he had become adept at spinning falsehoods. When even one step out of line merited being grounded for a month, the alternative was killing off anything and everything that made him who he was.

His mother had been a haven of sorts. Where possible, he shielded her from the truth as well. Sometimes, however, he slipped up, and the mess was too big to go unnoticed. That was when he went to her, confessing and promising he would never do it again.

It had worked every time. She would distract his father with questions about work for long enough for Barty to fix the problem, and then everything would go on as if nothing had happened at all.

This, however, was something that his mother couldn't fix. No amount of distraction or deflection would make his father forget that Barty had been implicated in the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom by people who were known to have committed the crime.

And so he resorted to lying, insisting that he'd had nothing to do with it — that he hadn't known why they were going there — that they'd held him at wand point and forced him not to leave.

Many of the people at the trial were clearly swayed by his claims, but his father held firm. After all, to him, crime was crime. Who the perpetrator was and why they did it meant nothing. The only question was whether or not they were guilty.

Especially, it seemed, when the perpetrator was his own son.

Being sentenced to Azkaban was terrible; being condemned to it by his own father was worse.

But that wasn't the worst part.

Barty had done the crime, of course; the lies were mere smokescreens designed to get him a lesser sentence. But his father didn't know that. As far as he knew, Barty had had an upstanding childhood and had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And his father didn't care.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Barty Crouch Jr


	29. Dolores

Nobody seems to appreciate how much of a sacrifice Dolores has made by volunteering to go to Hogwarts. She has a wonderful career at the Ministry, surrounded by people who respect her and value her input. Her workday starts at eight o'clock in the morning and ends at five o'clock in the afternoon, at which point she can go home and spend some time with her cats. While she sometimes works overtime, typically, she isn't expected to.

And, most importantly, she doesn't have to deal with spoilt, misbehaving children.

She has never wanted offspring herself, finding them annoying and unruly. And when they aren't even _hers_?

But misbehaving children grow into uncontrollable adults if they are not taught proper discipline, and that's the last thing they need at a time like this. They need stability and the assurance that the next generation of Hogwarts alumni won't threaten that.

With Hogwarts under Dumbledore's thumb, they have neither.

Intervening is not only proper; it is necessary.

And so Dolores volunteers to be the one to enter the school undercover in order to bring about change.

Fortunately, Cornelius is able to get her the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, which is arguably the most crucial professorship at the moment. After all, the lies that Dumbledore is telling all centre around the subject. The way to counter that is by taking control of the flow of information themselves.

Of course, that means she has to actually teach children. However, part of their reform is shifting the focus away from the dangers of practical learning and towards the safety of book learning. She has sourced a thorough textbook that covers the curriculum in sufficient depth and at a simple enough level that they should all be able to understand it.

That means she will, hopefully, be able to spend the class time observing them rather than actively lecturing. That way, she will be able to keep the classroom under control while working on her true reason for being there.

Dolores' plan is foolproof, which is fortunate, given the number of fools she expects to encounter — and that's even before considering the children.

Nevertheless, she looks forward to having reformed the school enough to be able to return to her usual job.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Dolores Umbridge


	30. Harry

Harry never sees himself as a hero, not even when children whisper about him in the streets and marvel at the deeds he's done. After all, he never had a choice. The moment Voldemort decided to target him, he brought him into the war, whether he wanted it or not.

The true heroes are the people who volunteered for it even though they had every chance to wake away — people like Ron and Hermione, like Luna and Ginny, like Remus and Tonks. They all had the choice to stay out of it at one point or another.

No one would have targeted Luna or the Weasleys if they kept their heads down and pretended to be neutral like so many other purebloods did back then. No one would have found Hermione if she decided to disappear into the Muggle world with her parents.

Harry, however, didn't have that option. It's not like he could have run back to the Muggle world, not with the Dursleys waiting for him. And he didn't know enough about the wizarding world to have been able to hide himself there, either. His only option was to stay at Hogwarts and face the dangers as they came.

He knows his friends would disagree, insisting he went above and beyond what was necessary to merely survive, but he doesn't see it that way. For most of his schooling, all he did was react.

It isn't until a conversation with Lily Luna many years on that he reconsiders. He's filling her in on what happened in the war, like he did with her brothers, when she calls him a hero.

Like he told James and Albus, he explains why he doesn't see himself that way — how there was never a choice.

'You're wrong,' she says. 'I can see a hundred things you could have done instead, but you didn't do any of them. You didn't even consider them. Maybe that's what makes you a hero; the idea that the right thing _is_ the only option.'

Thinking back on how many people found excuses not to get involved, pretending their silence wasn't a stance in itself, he wonders whether she's right after all.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Harry Potter


	31. Helena

Helena didn't realise what the ramifications of stealing her mother's diadem would be. At the time, it was an act of childish jealousy and rebellion, committed in a fit of pique after she had offered her opinion at a meeting, only for it to be ignored in favour of her mother's views.

Not once did she think it would lead to her death, or to her leaving such a precious family heirloom in a hollow tree in Albania.

By the time she returned to Hogwarts as a ghost, her mother was gone. Nobody at the castle seemed to know that Helena had stolen the diadem, and she decided to keep it that way. Her mother must have had a reason for keeping it a secret. Besides, would anyone accept her there if they knew she was a thief and a traitor?

She wished she could fetch the diadem and bring it back to the school her mother had loved so dearly, but she couldn't. Since she no longer had corporeal form, she had no means of transporting it back on her own, and enlisting help would mean both telling someone of her treachery and trusting them to bring it back.

But then a boy came along. Wickedly intelligent, handsome, and charismatic, they matched wits for hours, and she found herself enthralled by him. This was someone whom, if they had lived at the same time, she would have been pleased to marry.

Tom asked her about the diadem, and for the first time, she told someone her deepest secret. He was a good listener, and she found herself telling him more and more until, eventually, she had revealed all she remembered of the location of the diadem.

'Will you return it to me?' she asked. 'It belongs here.'

'I will do my best to find it,' he said courteously.

Usually, she would have noticed the loophole in his words, but she was so blinded by his charm that she didn't pay it any heed. Even as time passed, she simply attributed it to the fact that Albania was so far away and that finding the precise tree was a difficult task to achieve.

It was only years later, when Tom returned to seek the Defence Against the Dark Arts position with the object in hand yet refused to give it to her, that she realised why he had been so careful with his words back then.

He had done his best to find it, yes, but he had never said why.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Helena Ravenclaw


	32. Albus

When Albus first arrived at Hogwarts, everyone thought he was going to be special just because his dad was. His father was brave, a natural at Quidditch and DADA, and funny. He had stood out from an early age, even when he didn't mean to. Even when the professors spoke about how he had been a poor student or had seemed to always find his way into trouble, they did so with a fond twinkle in their eyes.

Was it possible for _anyone_ to dislike him? If so, Albus was yet to find proof.

And they all clearly expected him to follow in his father's footsteps. After all, James was proving to be quite the Keeper, and Albus' cousin Rose was at the top of her year in almost all of her subjects.

They were _special._ They _stood out._

But that wasn't him.

His flying instructor watched him with excitement the first time he hopped on a broom, only to lose interest when it became clear that he was mediocre at best. His professors seemed to almost _want_ him to do something daring or find some trouble to solve so they could say he was just like his parents after all.

But Albus wasn't someone who was gifted at athletics or duelling or skilled at making witty remarks. He was just an ordinary, average boy with ordinary, average interests. The fact that his parents were legends didn't negate that.

Perhaps that was what had helped him become such close friends with Scorpius. They both knew what it felt like to be judged by what their father had done.

While Albus was compared to his father and found wanting, Scorpius was ignored because they assumed he was too similar to his. The ironic thing was that if anyone had bothered to actually compare Scorpius to Mr Malfoy, they would have found that they were just as different as Albus and his dad — only that would have made them think better of him, not worse.

Over time, Albus came to realise what a good, interesting person Scorpius was. He genuinely cared about people and magical creatures, and he was funny.

But, yes, the first time they spoke, it was to bond over being judged for the virtues or sins of their fathers.

* * *

A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Albus Severus Potter


	33. Susan

Susan doesn't accept Marietta's excuse for why she betrayed the DA. Everyone knew the risks, and they all accepted them when they decided to keep attending despite Umbridge's increasingly strict educational decrees. Claiming that she "had" to tell on them because of the pressure was an outright lie and, quite frankly, an insult to their intelligence.

After all, Marietta isn't the only one with family working at the Ministry. Just like Marietta's parents could have lost their jobs if Fudge decided to go after them in retribution, so too could Susan's aunt or Ron's father or Lee's grandfather.

The difference is that they all knew it was worth the risk. Standing up when something was wrong always was. Yes, Susan's involvement in the DA could have caused problems for her aunt, but she stayed anyway because it was the good and right and _necessary_ thing to do.

And because she knew it's what her aunt would want her to do.

When Aunt Amelia left field work to take a desk job, she told Susan she thought she could make more of a difference there. Bureaucracy tied Aurors' hands, and the only way to fix that was to change it from the inside. However, even back then, she said that her main concern was to keep people safe.

'If my job ever gets in the way of that,' she said, 'that's when I know it's time for me to quit.'

Susan took that to heart, and she still uses it to guide her to this day. Some compromises are worth making, but only so long as the end result is still clear.

Rules exist for a reason and should be respected, but when they protect the bad guys, they _should_ be broken. If the choice is between doing the "proper" thing and protecting a homicidal tyrant and doing the "improper" thing and preventing his return to power, she knows what her aunt would want her to choose.

Marietta had a choice.

* * *

A/N: Build a Zoo prompt: Susan Bones


	34. Argus

Even when Argus himself was young, he never liked children. The children who lived on his street liked to mock him for being a Squib. At first, it was just words, but after they left for Hogwarts and learned to control their magic, it became worse. Every time they came home for the holidays, they sought him out, levitating his things just out of his reach while talking about how wonderful Hogwarts was.

So when Dumbledore offers him the position of caretaker at Hogwarts, he's hesitant. The last thing he wants to do is surround himself by ignorant, nasty brats.

But he doesn't have much of a choice. Born to a distant offshoot of a poor pureblood family, he can't just not work. Yet most wizards and witches don't want employees who are Squibs; some people still think the condition can be passed onto unborn children, and the rest don't see the point. Why hire someone without a wand when they can hire someone with one?

Since he knows nothing about the Muggle world, that isn't an option either. He would stick out just as much there as he does here, except here, he knows how things work.

That's why Argus begrudgingly accepts the offer. Dumbledore assures him he'll have help, and he'll get pay, board and food to work at his own pace. Even better, he's allowed to bring Mrs Norris with him.

Still, he knows the students laugh at him behind his back, amused at how long it takes him to do things they could do in seconds. Every time they create a mess and leave it behind for him to clean up, his anger boils. It's sickening that he knows even the worst of them are more likely to find work than him.

The only thing that keeps him from responding with corporal punishment is the fear that Dumbledore will fire him if he does.

On the cycle goes.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Argus Filch


	35. Fleur

Falling in love with Bill was the easiest, most natural thing Fleur had ever done. Handsome, intelligent and funny, he was everything she had ever wanted in a partner and so much more.

Choosing to marry him was another story entirely. She had been raised to believe that people should do whatever it took to marry the person they loved, and that doing any less was cowardly and ingenuine. Back then, she had been convinced that she could overcome any barrier and face down any scrutiny, enduring it with patience and grace.

But when it came to it, it was harder than she'd thought.

While she liked England and had always enjoyed foriegn languages, having to constantly focus on speaking and understanding those around her was a strain. She hadn't realised how much she took being able to communicate for granted until it was no longer as easy as breathing.

She hadn't imagined the scrutiny would come from her boyfriend's own family. While his father had welcomed her from the start and his brothers had come to accept her, his mother and sister were obvious in their disapproval. Nothing she did was good enough for Molly, and Ginny seemed to think shunning Fleur for her beauty was a win for "ordinary" girls, not realising it was a loss for all girls.

And her friends and family all lived back in France, so she didn't have them to support her through the changes and challenges she was facing every day. Bill was wonderful, but she didn't want to weigh him down with complaints about his family, no matter how justified she was. If it all became too much, she would have to, but she was determined to try dealing with it herself first.

Even worse, a war was coming straight for English shores. As tensions rose and the situation became increasingly untenable, so too did the letters begging her to return home to relative safety. Fleur had never been a coward; she was willing to fight for what was right, whatever the costs. But it was yet another reason for pause, another reason to think seriously about everything that would come with marrying Bill.

Fleur loved him with every fibre of her being, and she couldn't imagine going back home to France without him. But it wasn't just as simple as choosing him. In choosing him, she was choosing everything else as well: language barriers, unsupportive in-laws, isolation from her own friends and family, a war…

It was only fair to give it all the consideration it deserved. Doing any less would have been a disservice to Bill.

But even as she considered it, she knew what her decision would be.

'Yes,' she said a few days after he first brought up the possibility, 'I can see myself marrying you.'

A/N: Build a Zoo prompt: Fleur Delacour


	36. Dorcas

Dorcas knew Voldemort was after her. Most Order members were used to seeing Death Eaters trailing them at some point or another, but in the past few weeks, the number of people watching her had increased. So far, every time that had happened, it was a sign of an imminent attack.

It was frustrating, but not for the reasons one might think. She had sent her parents and little brother into hiding already, and she was more than capable of taking care of herself, so the physical risk didn't scare her.

No; what annoyed her was that she couldn't do anything genuinely important while they were after her. While she thought she knew everyone who was following her, that could never be guaranteed, and the Order couldn't afford for their true plans to be reported back to Voldemort.

And so she was assigned to plant false leads for them to follow, buying an odd assortment of goods piecemeal from different stores and acting as if she were working on something big. In the meantime, her friends did the real work, using the distraction she was creating to meet with people they usually wouldn't risk visiting.

Even Dorcas had to admit this was a great opportunity; it was rare for the Death Eaters' resources to be focused so totally on observing one person to the point of leaving others unattended.

That didn't keep it from making her feel useless. What was she doing, really? Walking in circles and trying to make it look interesting? There were so many other things she could have been doing with her time.

Still, it was what they needed from her, so it was what she did. When she had signed up for the Order, she had agreed to put her own interests aside to protect others. A decoy mission hadn't been what she was envisioning, but that was life.

Dorcas threw herself into it wholeheartedly, and she continued doing so until the day Voldemort arrived at her doorstep with murder in his eyes.

From the moment the door opened, she knew she wasn't making it out of there alive.

But she was determined to make it as hard for him as she could.

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A/N: Build a Zoo prompt: Dorcas Meadowes


	37. Cedric

Cedric's housemates cheered as he returned to the Hufflepuff common room. Someone had sneaked in alcohol, and one of the boys in the year above him shoved a cup into his hand as he cleared the entryway.

To them, defeating Gryffindor at Quidditch was a massive feat, one worthy of celebration and acclaim.

Usually, he would have agreed. His team had been training hard for weeks, pushing themselves to their limits and then further still. They had been determined to beat the lions and bring themselves one step closer to winning the Quidditch Cup.

But as much as he'd wanted the win, how it had come about didn't sit well with him.

An outcome only mattered if it was fair. Quidditch was a test of flying ability, strategic play, and in-the-moment reaction times. The joy of winning came from testing his skills against someone else's and coming out ahead; a victory earned through underhanded means wasn't really earned at all.

His team hadn't cheated, of course. They'd played by both the spirit and the nature of the rules, their conduct above reproach. But he couldn't deny that if the Dementors hadn't interfered, Potter would never have fallen off his broom. And given both their relative positions that day and demonstrated ability in the previous ones, it was clear that Potter was the one who would have caught the Snitch.

Gryffindor would have won.

Gryffindor _should_ have won.

Cedric knew his teammates wanted him to let it go. His bad mood was bringing them down as well, especially since he was usually among the first to celebrate when they won. But he couldn't help it.

A win was only a win if it was earned fair and square. The moment the Dementors arrived, that had changed the playing field, tipping it in his favour.

The game hadn't been fair.

So how could he consider it a win?

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A/N: Build a Zoo prompt: Cedric Diggory


	38. Rose

Rose knew Albus and Scorpius struggled with living in their fathers' shadows, convinced they would never be seen anything more than someone's child.

Scorpius, she understood. It was difficult to be constantly discounted, especially when it was because of something fundamental and unchangeable. She'd had enough people dismiss her because of her gender to know that firsthand, although she was fortunate in that nobody close to her felt that way. Being overlooked because of his father's mistakes had to be hard, and it was his steadfast belief in his father that had her believing Mr Malfoy was no longer the boy her parents had told her about.

Albus, however, she didn't get. Uncle Harry was the most famous wizard in Britain, and as his son, Al had so many opportunities open to him that no one else did — even Rose. And yes, that meant the shadow he cast was large. Yet instead of seeing him as someone to emulate or a goalpost to strive for, Albus saw him as a standard so unreachable that there was no point in striving for it.

Her approach was the opposite. Her parents were famous, too, and everyone who met her seemed to be trying to work out whether she was more like her mother or father. Instead of being cowed by the comparisons, however, she learned to embrace and grow from them.

One day, she would step out of her parents' shadows and cast her own. After all, standing up for what was right was just as important in peacetime as in war. Rose was determined to make a difference so that when people talked about her in the years to come, they complimented how she combined her father's tactical mind and her mother's passion for justice, championing oppressed people with unprecedented success.

To her, her parents were inspirations.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Rose Weasley


	39. Gellert

Gellert had never told Albus the full truth, even when they were first starting out. Honesty wasn't something he valued, especially when it came at his expense; the more people knew, the more dangerous they were, and Albus was powerful enough all of that knowledge at his fingertips.

The main secret he kept, however, came much later.

He knew how Ariana died. Albus and Aberforth both thought it was unknowable, but that was because it hadn't been them.

Gellert had been aiming at Aberforth when a tree branch had fallen, sending him diving off to the side and throwing his wand arm off. His curse had gone awry, curving off towards Ariana and hitting her square in the chest even before Gellert had hit the ground.

But neither of her brothers had noticed, and the fight had continued on, Albus intervening to stop Aberforth from pressing his advantage over Gellert. It wasn't until ten minutes later, after Gellert had reengaged in the fight, that Aberforth noticed the dying girl.

By then, enough time had passed that it was too late for Albus or Aberforth to determine who had done the deed.

A better man would have admitted that it was him. A good one would have stopped the fight immediately to try to help her.

While it was sometimes useful to pretend otherwise, Gellert was neither. He didn't care about people, just what they could do for or to his goals. They were bricks being laid into a wall, important but easily replaceable if they cracked before achieving their purpose.

Ariana's death was a waste, but only insofar as it affected Albus' willingness to help him in the future.

If Albus realised Gellert was the one who'd cast the curse, he would never forgive him and might even openly defy him. Even with Gellert's white lies and deceptions over the years, Albus knew too much for that to be allowed to happen.

If he didn't know, however, there was a chance, albeit a small one, that he would return to the cause eventually, or at least support it from afar.

Especially if Gellert could make him suspect that one of the brothers had cast the curse.

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A/N: Prompt: Gellert Grindelwald


	40. Theo

Theo has always believed in being a good person.

When he was a child, it was easy. There were rules laying out what he should and shouldn't do and what he should and shouldn't tolerate from the people around him. Even better, in most cases, there was a clear hierarchy, with some acts being worse than others.

While it was difficult to speak up when someone did something bad, it was clearly, objectively, the right thing to do. "Tattling" didn't make him well-liked, but it was lower on the hierarchy than enabling a bully.

And ultimately, it led him to a close group of friends who felt the same way he did.

But it isn't as straightforward anymore. As he grows older and meets new people, he starts to question things he previously took for granted. And as the threat of war looms on the horizon, those questions are all imbued with a new sense of urgency.

Theo's parents told him Muggle-borns pollute bloodlines, yet Granger's at the top of their year and Crabbe and Goyle are at the bottom. They taught him to intervene when they see injustices in the world, yet they stood by as their peers committed them in bulk, claiming neutrality.

They taught him not to judge others, yet as soon as it comes to Muggle-borns, they do the exact opposite.

What does this mean for him?

Can he trust his moral compass when it's based on contradictions? How does he know which path to follow when the needle keeps spinning between two different directions?

For the first time in a long time, not all of his opinions are reconcilable. He can't just go to his parents for help, either; he has to work through this one on his own.

The day after he realising that they're hurtling headfirst into a war, he decides that when it comes down to it, there's only one decision he _can_ make.

Theo can't believe Muggle-borns are inferior, not after sitting in with so many of them and seeing how equal and human and _individual_ they are.

And even if he did, he couldn't just sit by as someone tried to commit genocide.

The only thing left to do is try to convince his parents and friends to side with him.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Theodore Nott


	41. Damocles

Getting funding to work on his lycanthropy potion was difficult. The Ministry and the public alike wanted a way of treating the disease, but to them, Damocles' proposed cure was too fantastical to be believed. Nobody wanted to throw resources at him when they could focus on identifying and catching werewolves instead.

Damocles refused to be swayed. Years of his life had been dedicated to researching the disease, examining subjects in both human and werewolf form, listening to them describe the change, and exploring all known symptoms.

Now, finally, he was almost there. The first prototype of his potion had failed, but he thought he'd isolated what went wrong, and the revised version was almost complete.

But after he'd updated his funders on the progress of the trial, the Ministry withdrew its support and its galleons. They claimed it was because the work was unviable, but he knew it was really because he'd been honest about the potion _treating_ the disease rather than _curing_ it.

To them, there was no difference between a rogue werewolf and a tame werewolf, so the potion had no value.

It was so infuriating. He was on the right track! All he needed was more time and resources to observe transformations safely.

And despite the Ministry's scepticism, his potion had the potential to be revolutionary.

How different would life be for the afflicted if they could mitigate the effects of the change, making it less painful and easier to recover from? There wouldn't be as much stigma, so people would be able to get the help they needed to make arrangements for the full moon.

How much safer would the full moon be for other witches and wizards if they didn't have to worry about rogue werewolves?

No matter what the Ministry thought, Damocles' work was important. He refused to give up just because of a few minor difficulties.

One day, somehow, he _would_ finish his Wolfsbane Potion.

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A/N: Build a Zoo prompt: Wolfsbane Potion


	42. Draco

Draco and Astoria were surprised when Scorpius wrote home to say he'd made friends with Albus, but they were pleased nonetheless. Potter's son was sure to be a decent kid, and it meant Scorpius wasn't falling in with anyone who still believed in the old ways. Besides, if anything could convince the other children that Scorpius was on the straight and narrow, it was being friends with a Potter.

Scorpius' letters had been veiled with positivity, of course, but they knew their son. They could read between the lines of what he did and didn't say to see the disappointment hidden there. He wrote about how interesting his lessons were, but rarely never about group work. He described the castle in loving detail in case anything had changed since they went there, but his descriptions of his professors were sparse and distant. He wrote about Albus and Rose often, but he never mentioned any other friends or interactions.

Nevertheless, Draco didn't realise how bad things really were until Albus visited during the holidays after their first year. It was then that he and Astoria, identifying an opening, started to subtly push for answers. It was then that Albus admitted that nobody in their year liked either of them very much.

From there, they mounted a full-scale campaign for answers, asking the boys and even writing to Albus' parents for more clarity. They learned about the extent of the dislike Scorpius' classmates and professors felt for him.

They learned the reason.

Knowing that his son was being avoided and scrutinised because of him was devastating. Draco had known people would be cautious, but he'd hoped they would give Scorpius a chance — assumed they wouldn't be able to resist once they got to know him.

He had been wrong.

It was his fault. If Draco had been stronger as a child, his child would have been spared this. But alas, not only had he been who he was, but he had been let off lightly for it. Draco had been given a lax punishment for his crimes, more of a slap on the wrist than an actual sentence.

Now, it seemed, the wizarding world wanted Scorpius to carry the weight of his mistakes.

Draco didn't know what he could do, but he had to think of something.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Draco Malfoy


	43. Ulick

'There is a time and place for everything,' Augustine Avery insisted from where he sat on the Opposition's side of the Wizengamot. 'Witches and wizards should have the right to cast any spell they choose. What is it that makes these curses so much worse than others? If someone misuses a spell, _then_ there should be repercussions.'

Ulick Gamp leant forward in his chair. 'In what time and place is it appropriate for someone to cast the Killing Curse?'

'I should think that would be self-explanatory.' Avery smirked at the politicians gathered behind him. Some of them laughed, but others looked uncomfortable, averting their gaze. 'One would use it when one must kill someone.'

He didn't have the full support of his party, then. Many of the people who seemed to find his comment in poor humour were, Ulick noted, people who'd had experience on a battlefield — who had seen the horrors of that curse firsthand.

'I fear I am not as intelligent as you,' Ulick said good-naturedly. 'When a wizard has a myriad of options available to him, I fail to see why it is _self-explanatory_ that he might choose to use a curse that has been shown to not only destroy the body but also damn the soul.'

Avery's smirk faded. Behind him, a few of the people who had laughed earlier glanced at one another awkwardly.

'Tell me,' Ulick continued, just as good-naturedly, 'in what time and place is it appropriate for someone to cast the Cruciatus Curse?'

'They might have to interrogate someone.' Avery didn't appear as confident anymore — certainly not as glib, in any case. 'As unsavoury as it is, it is not uncommon for Aurors to find themselves in a position where they have to use creative means of uncovering information.'

'Ah. Aurors have to make decisions they would prefer to avoid in the line of duty, of course.'

'Of course.'

Ulick paused for dramatic effect. 'Remind me how the Cruciatus Curse works. Is it not true that the caster has to _want_ to cause pain for it to work? It can never be cast dispassionately; there must always be evil intent and a desire to harm. The harsher the intent, the stronger the curse.'

Avery was silent, and there was even more division in the ranks behind him.

'People who are merely fulfilling their duty would be unable to cast it; the only people who would be able to do so are people who should not be conducting an interrogation in the first place. Perhaps you could tell me a time and place where it is appropriate for someone to cast the Imperius Curse, however.'

Avery didn't even try to offer one, apparently conceding defeat.

Shortly afterwards, voting began.

It was one of the quickest votes they'd had that year. Within minutes, all three curses had been deemed morally repugnant and unforgivable.

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A/N: Prompt: Crucio


	44. Roger

Despite what Roger said after the fact, he _did_ receive Cho's letter in time. He had returned home from his internship and was in the middle of eating dinner when it came barrelling through the Floo, landing in a small pile of soot on the floor.

Ever since he'd moved to Germany for work, he'd chosen to manage most of his correspondences through the Floo. It was much faster and meant he didn't have to bother with keeping and taking care of an owl. Of course, given how hectic life had been lately, he'd set the fireplace to allow messages from certain people to come through without requiring individual approval.

The message itself was brief and clear, tailored to be sent out en masse: _A battle is brewing. Need help. Come immediately if you can._

His answer was the opposite.

The cold, hard fact of the matter was that he didn't _want_ to fight. He believed that He Who Must Not Be Named had to be stopped; it was unconscionable to think otherwise.

But why should _he_ get involved? The battle was so far away, and there were people who were much closer _and_ much more qualified than him. Defence Against the Dark Arts had always been his weakest subject, and he hadn't duelled once in the years since he'd left school. Why should he risk _his_ life for this?

Besides, all anybody knew was that the letter had been sent. They couldn't guarantee that it had made it through the Ministry's screening process — or that he'd seen it if it had.

So he put the letter back in the envelope, re-sealed it, and left it on the floor. Then he finished his dinner and went to bed.

When Roger heard from Cho the next afternoon, he pretended he'd gone to bed early and hadn't had the chance to read her letter before leaving for work the next morning. He said he was glad they'd won, and that she'd survived, and that he would have been there if he'd known.

Roger lied.

The truth was that when the call for help came, he ignored it.

A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Roger Davies


	45. Arabella

At first, Arabella didn't even realise anything was wrong. Harry was scrawny, but so were many boys his age. He never seemed to spend time with friends outside of school, but he probably preferred to stay home — that or his aunt and uncle were overprotective.

Over time, however, more signs arose. While his cousin was always well-dressed, Harry only ever wore oversized clothes, and he rarely smiled. Whenever she babysat him, if she asked about his interests, he casually talked about his chores. Nothing was telling in and of itself, but everything was _odd._

She wrote to Albus about her concerns, but he dismissed them, insisting that Muggle ways often appeared odd to the untrained eye. He said it was only natural that things that were normal to them would seem confusing to her.

The excuse seemed reasonable enough. After all, even though her parents had sent her to a Muggle school, they themselves were magical and had parented her according to wizarding principles. Perhaps it was common for second-born children to only wear hand-me-downs and to talk about chores instead of interests.

She did send in an anonymous report to the Muggle authorities once, but when nothing came of it, she decided that Albus was right after all. Clearly, the things she had observed were par for the course for Muggles.

Besides, Petunia treated Harry well enough whenever she dropped him off at Arabella's house. She was a little strict and standoffish, perhaps, but then some people were. And while her constant warnings about Harry's poor behaviour never seemed to amount to anything, it was possible it was just her way of trying to cover for any accidental magic he might do.

So she monitored Harry from afar, giving him a reprieve when he visited but otherwise staying out of it.

Still, the little voice of doubt in the back of her mind never quite went away.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Arabella Figg


	46. Dudley

Dudley knew he didn't deserve Harry's forgiveness. After enduring years of torment and bullying, nobody would have blamed him if he'd refused to talk to anyone with the surname Dursley again.

He didn't deserve it, but he was grateful for it.

Spending a year in hiding had changed Dudley. His father had had to take unpaid time off work, leaving them to survive on their savings, so the luxuries and conveniences they were used to had been out of the question. While they'd been enough to live on comfortably, they'd had to ration themselves in case the war lasted as long as the first one.

Dudley hadn't even known there had _been_ a "first one" until one of the witches, a woman named Tonks, had explained it to him.

But while that had taken some getting used to, the real shock had been hearing about everything Harry had gone through at that school of his. Realising that Dudley's harassment, as horrible as it was, had been the _least_ of his worries was humbling.

As soon as they learned the war was over, his first question had been whether Harry was alright. They'd briefly talked, and then life went back to normal.

Except it didn't. Everything was different.

How could he go back to his old life, knowing what he did? How could he just get through school and get a job selling drills at Grunnings when his younger cousin had already stopped a war? How could he be friends with people who still viewed Harry the same way he used to and didn't understand why he didn't want to insult him anymore?

It took some time, but he made changes. He still went into sales, but he went to university first, determined to see whether he wanted and deserved the job on his own merit. He made new friends, friends who made him want to be better rather than worse. He met a girl who later turned out to be a witch and married her.

At first, his relationship with Harry was limited to Christmas and birthday cards, along with the odd letter or wedding invitation. But after they had children, that started to change, with them meeting more regularly so the kids could play.

The past would never go away completely, but Dudley and Harry forged something that resembled friendship, while their children stood beside one another like they never had.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Dudley Dursley


	47. Daphne (Alternate)

Daphne had never before felt as hopeless as she did with the Carrows at Hogwarts. As a pureblood, she was above their notice; as long as she stayed quiet, they didn't care what she thought. Whenever she went home for the holidays, her parents urged her to continue keeping her head down and staying out of trouble.

But so many of her classmates did not have the luxury of just closing their eyes and waiting for it to be over.

The Muggle-borns had left already, of course. Those who'd had enough warning had taken their families and run, while those who hadn't had been rounded up by the Ministry. She didn't like to think about what had happened, or was happening, to them. From childhood, her parents had taught her not to concern herself with things that were outside of her control.

The half-bloods, however, were still at school, and they — and any pureblood who dared to publicly side with Potter — received the brunt of the Carrows' displeasure. Every perceived misstep was treated like a felony, with the perpetrator being punished a hundredfold.

Them, she could do something for.

She started small. Tattling had never been viewed favourably at Hogwarts, but now, the vast majority of the school was in agreement that anyone who told the Carrows about someone's misdeeds was the worst sort of person. But Daphne took it further. Knowing that she wouldn't be punished for accidentally closing a book too loudly in the library or knocking into someone in the hallway, she took the blame for things that would have had her classmates put in detention.

Over time, she became more daring, volunteering to be one of the people to cast the Cruciatus Curse on students who had been unlucky enough to be caught misbehaving. She and her friends pretended to cast the spell while their classmates feigned pain, despite them all knowing how much trouble they would be in if the Carrows ever suspected anything.

It was a risk, but it was the least she could do. Daphne understood her parents' worries, but she couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

She felt hopeless, but she wouldn't let that defeat her.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Daphne Greengrass


	48. Druella

Cygnus paced the dining room as he ranted, his face red and spit flying from his mouth. Druella had never seen him so livid, rage emanating from every pore of his body. It spoke to the control he had over his subconscious magic that none of the windows smashed. 'She has betrayed and humiliated our family and everything we stand for. How could she do this after everything we have done for her? How could she do this to her sisters?'

Druella made a noise of empathy but was otherwise silent. From the moment she'd approached Andromeda about her Muggle-born lover, only for her daughter to burst into tears, she had known that it would come to this. There had been no talking Andromeda out of her infatuation with the Tonks boy, and over time, she had come to realise her feelings ran deep.

It had been with a heavy heart that she realised that no matter what she did, she had already lost her daughter. Wilful as an ox, Andromeda would have let nothing come between her and what she wanted. Banning her from seeing the boy again would have done nothing except push her further away.

Hoping Andromeda would change her mind, Druella had decided to support her, hoping the romance would fizzle out on its own. She had arranged meetings, given advice, and helped her hide it all from Cygnus.

Eventually, she had even come to accept the relationship. While she didn't like Ted's background and never would, she had to admit that he cared just as much for Andromeda as she did for him. When Ted had asked for her blessing to propose to Andromeda, she'd agreed, although she'd warned him that nothing would stop Andromeda's father from disowning her.

Now that they'd eloped, Druella had to pretend that it was as much a surprise to her as it was to him. But she didn't mind the deception; after all, knowing Andromeda was happy made it worth it.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Druella Rosier


	49. Ginny

Ginny thought she was a fairly good person overall.

True, being nice wasn't her forte; she had a sharp tongue and was liberal in how she used it, not seeing any benefit in hiding her true thoughts. Most of the time, she thought she was justified in what she said, but even she had to admit that she sometimes took it too far. But occasional rudeness didn't equate to being bad, just as being nice didn't equate to being good.

And she _had_ inherited the Weasley aversion to sappiness. Apart from the messiness that was the year she spent with Voldemort as her confidante, she had never been one for public displays of sentimentality. She was more likely to show affection through sarcasm than compliments. Among the Weasley siblings, the giving of genuine compliments was seen as a sign that some kind of plot was afoot.

Rules had never appealed to her, either. Blind obedience was neither fun nor interesting; she preferred to find her own way.

But she tried to be kind to the people who needed it. If someone was hurting, she tried to make them feel better, and if someone was excluded, she made a point of including them. While most of her classmates mocked and underestimated Luna and Neville, she gave them a chance, and by doing so, she made the best friends she could have imagined.

And she was willing to put her life on the line for other people. She broke into the Ministry with Harry and the others to try to save Sirius, patrolled the hallways of Hogwarts when Harry and Dumbledore left during her fifth year in case Death Eaters attacked, and sneaked in to fight at the Battle of Hogwarts despite being underage at the time.

Weighing it all up, she wouldn't say she was perfect; far from it. But she _would_ say she tried to be a good person, and that she got it right enough of the time.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Ginny Weasley


	50. Millicent

Millicent couldn't believe she'd been so enamoured with Umbridge. At the time, she'd felt like a breath of fresh air in a castle that sorely needed refreshing. But how had she been so numb to the fact that the air carried poisonous fumes?

When Draco had asked her to join the Inquisitorial Squad, she'd been thrilled. Nobody had invited her to be part of a club before, and as someone who would never even have been considered for the role of prefect, it was an honour to be included in an official disciplinary group.

It was also a way of pulling one over on the Gryffindors. They'd gotten away with things for _years_ , getting points for things she would have been punished for and being given detentions for things they should have been expelled for. Potter had harboured a _dragon_ in the school in their _first year_ , and all he got was detention. It was ridiculous.

After years of watching Dumbledore favour the Gryffindors, even going so far as to award Slytherin the House Cup before taking it away again, it was nice to have the school run by someone who was holding them accountable for a change. Umbridge offered a system that wasn't fair but was at least weighted towards them, not against them.

In hindsight, she'd let her biases and petty rivalries blind her to Umbridge's true danger. She didn't know what detention with Umbridge looked like, nor did she even consider that Potter's claims of He Who Must Not Be Named being alive might be true.

She hadn't _wanted_ to know. It had been easier to buy the lies the Ministry was selling than to face what it would mean if Potter and Dumbledore were telling the truth.

And so she had let herself be deceived, ignoring the signs that the so-called fresh air was just poison in disguise.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Millicent Bulstrode


	51. Ursula

Ursula grew up in a family and a time where witches were discouraged from having opinions. When they were young, they were required to share their father's views, and the only thing that changed as they aged was that their husband's views supplanted their father's. Usually, however, this did not require much adjustment since marriages were arranged for political reasons, never love.

Some of her friends from school felt constricted, seeing the expectations as shackles and rebelling however they could. Then, upon leaving Hogwarts, they sought out work as governesses or tried to find husbands who would allow them some measure of freedom and independence.

She could understand why they felt as they did. Their interests lay elsewhere, and a few of them came from families where the head of the household frequently displayed unsound judgement. To them, spending a lifetime in such an arrangement was unconscionable.

For Ursula, however, that was pointless. Nothing was ever going to change, no matter how much they might argue, and so it was better to accept the situation. Besides, she quite liked the future that lay ahead of her. She enjoyed children and homemaking, and she was content to leave handling the finances and politics to her future husband.

Therefore, despite their insistence that she should be opposed to the restrictions on principle, she preferred it that way. Why rebel against something that suited her well? Why protest when her father kept abreast with politics so that she did not have to?

As such, she went from being part of one pureblood family to being part of another, never questioning the views with which she was raised. She never considered that witches and wizards who were born to Muggles might be equal to those who were not, or that sentient magical creatures might deserve respect.

She merely followed her husband's lead.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Ursula Black

This one was hard to write.


	52. Terence

Terence knew his opinions on cheating were unpopular among his teammates. While most of the other players on the Slytherin Quidditch team were comfortable with fouling to get ahead, he felt that the only game worth playing was an honourable one.

If he had been a Beater or a Chaser, he was sure he wouldn't have made the team on the grounds of that stance alone. Flint wanted each and every player to do whatever it took to win and would have chosen a rough, inexperienced player over a clean, capable one any day.

Fortunately for Terence, however, Seekers usually didn't have much involvement in the action. For most of the game, his only goal was to stay out of the way of everyone else and look for the Snitch. It was only in the handful of minutes he was actually racing the other Seeker for the Snitch that he had the opportunity to be aggressive.

And, really, it wasn't that he was _against_ being rough if the situation called for it. He just refused to be the first one to take it to that level. Whatever the other Seeker did to him, he could and would return. He refused to let someone else's foul play pay off.

So despite his views, Terence made the team year after year. Between his speed and dexterity in the air and his willingness to hold his ground on the pitch, he really was the best choice Slytherin had.

Besides, he knew he added legitimacy to the team. A team full of players who would knock someone off their brooms if they could get away with it looked suspicious and tended to draw the referee's attention. If the same team had a few clean players, the referee was more likely to view them favourably.

That didn't sit well with him, but it wasn't enough for him to quit. While he knew he would never have a career in Quidditch, he enjoyed the sport, and this was the only chance he had to play it during the school year.

So just as Flint tolerated his tendency to play clean, he tolerated his teammates' proclivity for dirty tricks.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Terence Higgs


	53. Blaise

Pansy had always had a bit of a crush on Blaise — who hadn't? With his sharp wit, warm hugs, and ability to make anyone feel important, most of her friends had fancied him at one point or another. It had almost been like a rite of passage.

Back then, it had been harmless. She had known nothing would come of it and had pushed her feelings to the side, directing her attention to others instead.

But after the war, when everyone shunned her because they were scared to be seen publicly with the person who had suggested turning Potter over, he was one of the few people who stuck by her. His friendship never wavered, even when people gave them dirty looks in the street.

She refused to feel guilty. After months of standing by helplessly as the Carrows tortured her schoolmates, her comment had been a desperate attempt to end it all without more bloodshed. But it had been misguided. Caught up in the moment, she had forgotten that turning Potter over would only give them temporary relief.

Nevertheless, she didn't blame anyone for turning away. To everyone else, it looked like she had been angling for He Who Must Not Be Named to win. It was only natural for them to want to avoid being lumped in with her.

But he didn't have to be subjected to the same judgement. For her, it was a consequence; for him, it was a choice.

That only made Blaise's loyalty all the more precious. He didn't just refuse to avoid Pansy in public; he actively sought her out, making a point with every meal or trip to the theatre. And over time, her feelings grew from a flicker to an inferno.

When he finally told her he fancied her too, it felt inevitable, as did their wedding several years later.

But whenever she thought back on that time, that wasn't what she was most thankful for; it was how he'd stayed by her, refusing to let her good qualities be overshadowed by her bad.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Blaise Zabini


	54. Lily Luna

Lily's siblings thought her mask was bland and stupid, but that didn't faze her. It was rather the point. It hid her face thoroughly and wasn't distinguishable enough for anyone to be able to track it down to a particular supplier or store.

After all, when she went into the Muggle world, her goal was anonymity. Technically, she didn't have approval to use her magic to prevent crime or stop perpetrators there. Anything that could trace her actions back to her or, in a broader sense, the wizarding world was to be avoided.

Most people would have encouraged her to stop entirely and save her energy for something legal. Something like being an Auror or a Hit Wizard. But she was her father's daughter through and through. Being willing to take risks came with the territory.

And she was careful. She never went into any building with the fancy new security cameras Muggles were starting to use. She never pushed herself too far or tried to do too much. She never interfered with police operations.

She just stayed on the sidelines.

She had created her own tracking spell to detect and lead her to crimes in the area, after which she intervened as subtly as she could. If it was a robbery on the street, she wandlessly cast a Tripping Jinx to slow the robber down or a Slippery Charm to make whatever they'd taken hard to hold. If it was in a building or establishment, she slipped on her mask and cast a few quick spells to immobilise them without being noticed.

Her favourite trick was to end with the Incarceration Charm. She liked to leave them there, unconscious and bound, and then calling in a tip to the police about where to find them.

To the Muggle world, she was some vigilante who occasionally prevented armed break-ins.

To the wizarding world, she was just Harry Potter's well-behaved but aimless daughter.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Lily Luna Potter


	55. Arthur

Arthur took comfort in the fact that Charlie lived so far away. Tucked away in a Romanian dragon reserve, he was not only unlikely to be targeted, but he would be able to defend himself if he did. No one would willingly attack someone whose safety precautions included territorial, full-grown dragons.

Most of his children were old enough to make a decision about whether or not to get involved themselves, but that didn't keep him from worrying. Yes, Bill and Fleur were protected by their connection to Gringotts, with the goblins offering their employees discounts on defensive wards. And Percy's decision to side with the Ministry meant he was relatively safe; targeting him would only risk shaking the general public's purposeful ignorance.

But Fred and George were recklessly open, making their views known through joke products and puns without any assurance of security. Ron was best friends with the boy who was key to the whole war, putting him in the centre of danger on an almost annual basis. Ginny was a little further removed from the situation, but that was only because of her age, and Arthur knew she wouldn't let that stop her when push came to shove.

He was proud of his children's bravery and willingness to stand up for the safety of others. If they were the sort to watch from the sidelines as people were oppressed, he would have failed as a father.

Nevertheless, he hated how his actions had made them targets. Ron and Ginny were still just schoolkids, making them vulnerable, and Fred and George weren't much better. Only two years out of Hogwarts, they were still working out what it meant to be adults; they were too young to know how to balance taking a stand with keeping themselves safe.

Knowing Charlie, at least, was safe — that he was out of the way and would take in any of his siblings if they wanted — didn't take the fear away, but it was something.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Arthur Weasley

Inspired by kase519, who pointed out how the Weasleys may have needed the knowledge that a family member was safe to hold onto.


	56. Astoria

Dating Draco was never intended to be a statement. Astoria's friends all assumed it meant she thought he had fully redeemed himself, while people who didn't know her thought it meant she secretly agreed with blood purism.

Neither group was right, but in a way, neither group was wrong, either. The truth was, as always, hidden somewhere in the middle.

Astoria had never agreed with the Malfoys' views; it was one of the reasons why she never made a move on Draco at Hogwarts, despite having thought he was attractive for years. Blood bigotry repulsed her, and she refused to associate with anyone who thought it was acceptable. It was only after he distanced himself from his childhood beliefs that she even considered being with him.

But that didn't mean she thought Draco had fully redeemed himself, either. He had repented and was making a concerted effort to change, but he still had a long way to go. The important thing was that he recognised that — sometimes, it felt, even more than she did. In his quest to be better, he noticed biases that she never even realised she had, bringing her on the journey with him.

So while her friends weren't entirely right, they weren't entirely wrong, either; she didn't think Draco _had_ redeemed himself, but she thought he _was_ redeeming himself. Similarly, while the others were wrong in their assumption that she agreed with blood bigotry, they were also right in that growing up surrounded by it had led to biases that even she didn't recognise.

At the end of the day, asking him out was a personal choice, not a statement. Astoria knew she would have had higher expectations if she were a Muggle-born, so she understood why other people might be more reluctant to give him a second chance.

But for her, Draco's change of heart and genuine attempts to turn that into changes in action were enough.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Astoria Greengrass


	57. Filius

Filius returned to the Great Hall with a heavy heart and slow gait. The last thing he wanted was to see all the students who had opted to stay and fight, risking their lives for a war that wasn't theirs to begin with.

They were still young and gangly, not having grown into their bodies or minds yet. They thought they knew what they wanted out of life, but they'd only seen a small part of what was out there — and, depending on how the battle went, might never see more. They hadn't even voted before, yet they were being tasked with fighting for their lives.

Children were supposed to be protected, not recruited and certainly not drafted.

But this was what Voldemort had reduced them to — an army largely comprised of children who were barely even of age, fighting a battle they'd had no hand in making yet were expected to resolve. And he, their professor, who had known them since they were eleven and didn't even know how to hold their wands properly, was expected to assign them to battle stations.

How was Filius supposed to work out who would get the more dangerous assignments and who would get the less? Tactics and strategy had always come easily to him; he was able to hone in on the important details, filtering out anything that wasn't relevant.

He just couldn't think like that when it was his students' lives at stake; he couldn't see them as pawns who didn't matter outside of their respective strengths and weaknesses.

Yet that was exactly what they were asking of him, and if they were to have the best chance of success, it was what he had to do.

Filius walked into the Great Hall, his heart hurting but his mind resolute.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Filius Flitwick


	58. Molly

Molly and Arthur weren't members of the Order of the Phoenix the first time around. Lovestruck and expecting their first child, they'd been convinced other people were better suited to fighting than they were. They had always been good duellists, but they were out of practice, and other people were braver, or had more experience, or were closer to the conflict, or didn't have an unborn child to think about, or…

There were so many reasons to stay out of it, and Molly had seized on every single one.

They'd helped the Order however they could. While they didn't have money to spare, Arthur's position at the Ministry and her connections with other expecting mothers gave them access to information others couldn't get; he passed on anything he heard about suspicious attacks, and she eavesdropped on conversations between the wives of suspected Death Eaters. She also made meals for members to take on missions with them, keeping them fortified.

But as far as the actual fighting went, they both stayed out of it.

And then her younger brothers died. In the space of a few words, her world came crashing in on her. For a while, she was unable to even take care of the baby, leaving everything to Arthur. The only thing that kept her from singlehandedly hunting down the Death Eaters responsible was knowing that it would be a one-way trip. She couldn't do that to her parents, much less to Arthur and Bill.

From there, her involvement in the war grew, although she still stayed to the sidelines for Bill's sake.

Years later, when she realised Voldemort had returned, she knew immediately that she was not going to repeat the same mistakes again. Drawing on all her grief and anger, she joined the Order, throwing everything she had into it. To the best of her ability, she was determined to make sure no more innocent people died.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Molly Weasley


	59. Katie

After spending months in hospital due to that cursed necklace, the last thing Katie wanted to do was return to Hogwarts and its surrounds. Even just thinking about the streets of Hogsmeade was enough to send her back to that traumatic memory, and she had been planning on taking her final exams elsewhere to avoid going back. The sooner she could put that part of her life behind her, the better.

But then the final battle broke out, and she had to make a choice.

Her first reaction was not to go. As important as the cause was, she refused to break herself further for it. The war had taken enough from her without her giving it anything more. For hours, she stayed home, wishing her friends safety but unwilling to do anything more.

Perhaps she would have held firm to that stance if it hadn't been for the movie she was watching at the time. As she watched a man seek revenge for the deaths of a loved one, it hit her.

That was what she wanted, possibly even what she needed. The Ministry refused to give her justice, claiming that there was no way of knowing who had given her the necklace, and she doubted that would change anytime soon. But although she didn't know who had done it, she _did_ know where he was at that moment.

If the Death Eaters won, her would-be murderer would go free, never seeing the consequences for his actions. If they lost, he would be dead or in prison; while it wouldn't be for the crime, it would be enough to satisfy her.

She refused to break herself for the cause, but it was different if she was breaking herself so her existing wounds could heal properly.

The Ministry wasn't going to give her justice, so she was going to take it for herself. She was going to fight.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Katie Bell


	60. Vincent

Vincent had never been one for regrets. As Draco was fond of saying, that would have required more critical thinking than he was capable of.

Whatever the reason, Vincent didn't care; life was more pleasant if he wasn't second guessing himself all the time. Why feel guilt or shame when he could be happy? Why obsess over the past when he could just keep focusing on the next thing, then the next thing after that?

There would be no next thing this time. As the Fiendfyre overtook the room, its vicious flames devouring everything in its path, Vincent knew there would be no last-minute escape. Not for him. That broomstick ride had been and gone.

Still, even staring death in the face, he didn't regret his choices.

He would have preferred to survive the battle, of course. Giving his life for the Dark Lord had never appealed to him, and he didn't want to die. But he believed in blood purity, and if he had his time over again, most of his choices would have been the same.

Befriending Draco and Greg, scorning Potter, picking on mudbloods and blood traitors, helping Umbridge, spreading rumours about Dumbledore, staying to fight... He would do all of that again.

He wouldn't have entered the room that day. Instead, he would have insisted on keeping lookout or going down a different corridor. And if he had wound up there anyway, he certainly wouldn't have cast Fiendfyre, knowing how uncontrollable it was in such small spaces. Or he would have made sure he was near the exit first to make sure he got out in time.

But everything else, everything that had led him up to that doorway, he would have done the same — not once, not twice, but a hundred times over.

He had no regrets.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Vincent Crabbe


	61. Lucius

Despite Narcissa's concerns, Lucius didn't fear his trial. Severus had developed a potion that reduced the effects of Veritaserum. While one still felt compelled to tell the truth, it was easy to mislead and, with a firm enough will, even possible to lie.

His will was firm. The Dark Lord might have been killed, but he refused to go down with him.

The beauty of the potion was that it could be taken several hours in advance. He had one of his people slip it to him in a bottle of water after he arrived at the Ministry, the clear, scentless, tasteless fluid undetectable to even the most trained of eyes and noses.

Since only the innermost circle of Death Eaters knew about it, trained eyes and noses were in short supply. People might suspect he was lying, but nobody would be able to prove it. After all, outsmarting Veritaserum was inconceivable.

Knowing it was coming, he hadn't drunk anything prior to its arrival so he could down it quickly when it came. Within moments, all that was left was an empty bottle and the potion coursing through his body.

An hour later, when he was sitting in front of the Wizengamot, Lucius had a brief moment of doubt. While Severus had tested the potion during the war, it hadn't been the extensive testing of commercial products. And while he trusted his associate to bring him the potion, how could he be certain? The downside of an undetectable potion was that not even Lucius could detect it.

He pushed that aside. There was no other option now. Whether the potion worked or it didn't, whether his water had been spiked with it or it hadn't, the trial was going to go ahead. There was nothing he could do but wait for the Veritaserum to come out and the questions to start.

 _I'm innocent,_ he thought, practicing in his head. _I was under the Imperius Curse._

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Veritaserum


	62. The DA

' _Expelliarmus!'_ Harry shouted, and Hermione's wand was jerked from her grip. It flew towards him, and he caught it smoothly in his off hand.

She raised her hands in submission, but as he took a step forward, she leapt to the side and rolled behind a nearby rock.

A laugh burst forth from him. 'You're getting better. Good work.'

When they first started duelling as part of the DA, Hermione was very stiff, following what he supposed was traditional duelling etiquette. In the last few weeks, however, he had been trying to get her to approach it more realistically. In an actual fight, especially one against a Death Eater, it wasn't over when someone was disarmed.

He cast a Warming Charm on the rock, heating it to the point of discomfort.

'Ouch!' She came back out from behind it. This time, when she raised her hands, it was genuine.

They bowed, and Harry turned back to the rest of the group. 'Any feedback? Questions?'

'Why do you keep using the Disarming Charm, mate?' Seamus asked, frowning. 'Death Eaters are going to go for the kill, aren't they? Shouldn't we — _you know_ — instead?'

'Maybe,' Harry said, 'but I'm not going to practice anything lethal here, and even stunning is dangerous to do too often without proper cushioning.'

Padma raised a hand, and Harry nodded at her. 'But if this were real, you would use something else?'

'I don't know. I would, but in the heat of battle, I would probably revert back to the Disarming Charm. It's what I'm used to; besides, I'm fairly good at it.'

'Exceptionally good at it,' Hermione said, walking to stand beside him. 'I knew what you were about to do, but I still couldn't hold onto my wand.'

Harry shrugged. 'The benefits of practice.'

'Yes.' This time, she spoke under her breath so he was the only one who could hear him. 'It's funny how you never talk about the importance of practice when it comes to Potions or Transfiguration.'

'I never said I was perfect.' He grinned at her before turning back to the others. 'Anything else?'

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Expelliarmus


	63. Gabrielle

The Triwizard Tournament changes everything for Gabrielle.

She has always admired her older sister. When she was young, it felt like Fleur was good at everything. Even when she came up against something she didn't know how to do, she kept her poise and found a way to do it anyway. Intelligent and resourceful, Fleur is the kind of woman she wants to be — the kind she thinks every girl should aspire to be.

Now, however, she has proof. Of all the Beauxbatons students who could have been chosen for the Triwizard Tournament, Fleur is the one who was deemed worthy of the title of champion. It's a once-in-a-lifetime honour, exalting her for being among the best of the best. And Gabrielle fully believes in her and her ability to defeat the other champions.

She has always known how special Fleur is, but now, everyone else will see it too.

When the professors ask her to participate in the second task, she doesn't have to think about her answer. Anything that she can do to help Fleur, she will. Even when Dumbledore mentions that there may be some risks, she doesn't care; she trusts her sister to take care of her.

But when Gabrielle comes spluttering back to consciousness, held afloat by a boy with dark hair, something else changes as well. It finally hits her just how vulnerable she was down there. If it hadn't been controlled, and the boy hadn't been there to save beef she would have been dead.

She never blames Fleur for failing to reach the merpeople's village, and she's grateful for the boy's help. But next time, she tells herself, she won't need it.

Never again will she be dependent on others for safety. She will do what it takes to be as resourceful and resilient as her sister.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Gabrielle Delacour


	64. Neville

Heroic is the last adjective anyone would use to describe Neville. Kind-hearted, perhaps; well-meaning, definitely; heroic, never. Even Neville would never aspire for something as grand as heroism.

Except that isn't true anymore. He still doesn't see himself that way, but others — as self-conscious as it makes him feel — have started to. To his never-ending confusion, they see him as someone deserving of respect and admiration.

Once, someone even approached him in the street to say she named her child after him.

Her _child_. After _him_.

Neville still can't wrap his head around it.

Yes, he helped to organise and protect the other students during the Carrows' reign at Hogwarts, but he just did what he had to. If he didn't, someone else would have, and they might even have done it better. It wasn't heroism; it was just having humanity.

And in his quest to hunt down the snake, he may have been a little… zealous. After all, it was a mission from Harry, so he was determined to complete it if it was the last thing he did. But somehow, when he was running around the battlefield, he amassed a following, turning his frantic search into a makeshift charge.

It didn't help that he eventually managed to kill the blighter rather publicly in a move that, apparently, people found impressive.

It seems that, between that year and the battle itself, many of his old schoolmates now see him as some sort of leader. He's no Harry, but to them, he's a hero in his own right.

Neville doesn't think he'll ever come to terms with it. After all, he's the boy who was picked on because he was never capable of fighting back — the boy who needed support to get through a single Potions lesson.

That's in the past now; he isn't that person anymore. Still, a _leader_?

Despite his uncertainty, he has to admit that having a child named after him is touching.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Neville Longbottom


	65. Marietta

Years later, when Marietta thinks back on her time at Hogwarts, she recognises that she made a mistake in going to Umbridge about the Defence Association.

Back then, she didn't realise the implications of what she was doing. She never believed He Who Must Not Be Named was back; her parents insisted he wasn't, and she had never had reason not to trust them. Unlike the others, the only reason she joined the stupid group in the first place was Cho, who wanted to go but refused to go alone.

At first, Marietta was adamant that she wouldn't go. But for the first time since Cedric's death, _something_ was putting a light in her friend's eyes, and she hadn't been able to take that from her.

So she went. She was reluctant, and she didn't believe a word of what Potter said, but for Cho's sake, she went.

It wasn't all bad. She learnt things there, including some spells she'd never fully mastered in DADA. But ultimately, she was just biding her time until Cho was willing to go alone.

When she realised what her involvement could do to her parents, she broke. She told Cho not to go that night, then she went to Umbridge. Only later did she learn that Cho had gone despite her veiled warning, putting her directly in the line of fire.

Now, Marietta can see what she couldn't see then. Potter _was_ telling the truth about He Who Must Not Be Named, and her betrayal — as innocuous as it seemed at the time — could have lost them the war.

Still, she blames Granger for that vindictive curse she put on the parchment. Everybody else seems to think she was justified, saying it was a way to keep people from defecting, but that's crap.

If Marietta knew about the curse back then, she would have held her tongue. But she didn't know because Granger didn't _want_ her to know.

Curses only work as deterrence if people know about them. If they're kept a secret until after the fact, they're not deterrence; they're sadism.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Marietta Edgecombe


	66. The Trio

Hermione rocked back on her heels as the Polyjuice Potion simmered. Within hours, it would be complete, and then they would be able to carry out their plan of impersonating Malfoy's friends.

Her conscience was troubled at the thought of it. Even now, the only law they had broken was theft, and that could be easily overlooked or covered up. The moment they added their targets' hairs to the potion, their plot would turn from a foolhardy academic experiment into a serious breach of individual autonomy.

Ruining the potion by adding an ingredient would be simple, pouring it down the toilet even easier. The only sign that they'd done anything wrong would be the suspicions of a biased Potions professor and the ramblings of a distraught ghost.

But she couldn't do that. Slytherin's heir was targeting people, and there was a very real possibility that Malfoy knew who it was — or at least where to start looking.

They _had_ to find out what he knew. People would die if they didn't. It was only good fortune that nobody had yet.

It was possible for good people to do bad things and still be good people. Hermione had always believed that the end justified the means. There were limits to that philosophy, of course; some things were morally repugnant, no matter the circumstances. But within reason, she thought that doing bad things for the right reasons didn't make someone a bad person. It just made them human.

Packing away her things, Hermione hoped that was true. In a few hours, she would return with Harry and Ron to complete the potion and add the hairs. Then, they would impersonate their own schoolmates, breaking laws to save lives.

If she was wrong, then in seeking to keep someone else from doing evil, they would join them in their sinfulness.

A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Polyjuice Potion


	67. Ariana

Ariana had never been clever and ambitious like Albus or insightful and well-liked like Aberforth. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing extraordinary about her. That might not have mattered if she'd been born into another family; she might even have been considered normal. But compared to her brothers, she was nothing and nobody.

For as long as she could remember, she'd been known as the third Dumbledore sibling. Even in the village, people didn't seem to know her name; she was always someone's sister or daughter or friend, never _someone_. The people who _did_ know her always treated her like a little girl, acting as if she were still an infant.

She told her brothers about it, but that didn't help. Albus merely told her that if she worked hard enough, she was sure to do something to garner respect one day, as if that were the issue. To him, maybe it was, but to her, the advice was useless.

Aberforth, at least, attempted to _do_ something about it, talking about her to his friends and other villagers. But as well-intentioned as it was, it just made it worse. People recognised her more, but it also cemented her role as Aberforth's little sister. He was sweet for talking about her so fondly, they said, and they continued to see her only in relation to him.

All Ariana had ever wanted was to be seen as her own person, yet she knew she would never be as interesting or life such fascinating lives as her brothers. Maybe that was why she followed them everywhere, desperate to be part of everything they did. Maybe it was why she became so obsessed with Gellert Grindelwald, wanting to find out what it was that made him special in the hopes that she could mimic it.

Maybe it was why she actively tried to practice magic in public, wanting to find a way to impress her brothers, and accidentally drew the attention of the townsfolk.

And maybe it was why she was there that day when spells flew.

Perhaps she should have known things wouldn't change with her death.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Ariana Dumbledore


	68. Phyllis

A/N: Warning: allusion to non-con

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When Phyllis created Amortentia, her intentions were good. At the time, arranged marriages were the norm, resulting in countless young witches and wizards being forced to wed someone in whom they had no interest. While most of the matches were successful in the long run, the first few years were tough — the first days even more so.

She knew that from experience. As much as she had come to care for her husband over the years, that hadn't been the case when they first met. Their wedding night had been awkward and unpleasant, and it had taken time for it to become a joy rather than a duty.

If only, she thought, there was a way to artificially create feelings and intimacy.

As a budding potioneer, there was only one solution in her mind. Somehow, she had to create a brew that would help newlyweds feel connected for the first few months of their marriage. Over time, real feelings would develop, allowing them to decrease the dosage until it was as if they had never been on it in the first place.

Phyllis spent the next few years developing, testing and perfecting until, finally, it was ready to be sold. Fortunately, she had her husband's support in her endeavours; he allowed her freedom, and he had seen how tough the first few months of their marriage had been on her.

The potion became popular. At first, it was an underground movement; then, as word spread, it became normalised for nervous brides and grooms to purchase it to ease the transition.

At the time, it functioned exactly as she intended.

Unfortunately, it didn't end there. Terrified of dying, when her life came to an end, she lingered as a ghost, not wanting to leave the world or her husband behind.

And she saw what became of her potion. She saw how its purpose became distorted. Arranged marriages went out of style, but the potion remained. It became something that was used to humiliate or subjugate, and its derivatives were sold on the shelves of joke shops.

Seeing what had become of her hard work made her heart hurt and her head hang low. Her potion had been used to help so many, but now it was doing the opposite.

What was her responsibility here? If something she'd created to do good was used by others to do evil, was that her fault?

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Amortentia


	69. Parvati

Parvati saw it happening, but she was too far away to do anything about it. All she could do was watch, horrified, as Greyback broke through Lavender's guard and tackled her to the ground. Her wand clattered to the ground, just out of her reach.

A scream tore from her mouth, and she surged forward. Greyback was lowering his head, teeth bared — she ducked under a red jinx — it was already too late — Lavender jerked and writhed with pain — she leapt over some debris — she couldn't give up —

A Death Eater stepped into her path, and she almost crashed right into him. Leaping back, she fought him with a fury she'd never felt before. Every second she spent with him was another second she wasn't there for Lavender. Her wand arm moved faster than it ever had, and her footwork was aggressive and dominating.

He was her first kill. It barely even registered as she rushed past his body. Her skin felt clammy and her heart beat with dread, but she told herself there was still time. There had to still be time.

There wasn't. By the time she reached Lavender, Greyback had moved on, and her friend was limp but for faint twitching.

Parvati fell to her knees beside her and grabbed her hand, squeezing it, hoping the gesture of comfort would somehow get through to her. Her neck and chest were drenched with blood.

'I'm sorry.' She sobbed, but no tears fell. 'I'm so, so sorry.'

How many people had Parvati saved over the course of the night? How many times had someone saved her? Yet now, when it mattered most, she'd been too slow. No one had intervened.

Her best friend was dead because she hadn't been able to get to her in time.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Parvati Patil


	70. Luna

Despite being wandless, helpless, and confined to the dungeons under Malfoy Manor, Luna refused to be hopeless. The Death Eaters had taken her freedom and imprisoned her body, and they might even take her life one day, but she refused to let them take her spirit — or, as far as she could help it, Garrick's.

It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things. When lives were being lost and saved everyday, what were the spirits of two prisoners worth? But even small rebellions could reap great benefits, and for the two of them, it meant the world.

Besides, perhaps it was important. The way to win was to stay strong and hold true. Whether that was on the battlefield or in the dungeon didn't matter. Hope was hope; resistance was resistance; thousands of small rebellions became one giant push.

So Luna kept her head up. When her gaolers threatened her or said mocking words, she didn't tremble or shrink back or cry. Instead, she smiled serenely and acted as though she were a welcomed guest.

It infuriated them to no end, but there was little they could do. Luna and Garrick were going to be tortured whether they behaved or not, and according to Draco, the Death Eaters were under strict orders not to do anything that would permanently harm them. Voldemort didn't know if he would need more information from Garrick, and Luna was only useful as leverage as long as she was alive.

What incentive did she have to act as the Death Eaters thought a prisoner should when it would change nothing?

Besides, her defiance, disguised as ignorance, helped her stay _her_. And it helped Garrick, too. As much as possible, he avoided speaking while the Death Eaters were there, but she saw how his eyes brightened whenever she played with their gaolers. It reminded her of how he looked when she first met him in Diagon Alley: curious and lively.

Luna didn't know whether it would make a difference in the end, and it certainly hadn't in the beginning. But now, in the middle, it was everything.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Luna Lovegood


	71. Gilderoy

Poppy scowled as she walked away from Harry Potter's bed, squeezing the bottle of Skele Gro angrily. What on Earth had possessed Gilderoy to attempt to mend his arm without the proper training? Why hadn't he waited until she could be called, as he was _supposed_ to do?

Now, Potter was in for a night of sleepless pain as his bones grew back from nothing. All because _that man_ hadn't been able to just let things be. She didn't go into the DADA classroom and try to do _his_ job; why did he have to interfere with _hers_?

It was clear that he fancied himself not just a jack of all trades, but a master of them. His accomplishments were impressive, and he never missed an opportunity to brag about them to the other staff members.

At first, Poppy had been quite enamoured with his stories. They _had_ come as a surprise; she'd started working at Hogwarts in his final year, and while he hadn't been to the hospital wing often, he'd always seemed a trifle dim-witted. Nevertheless, she had never been one to judge a person by how they acted when injured and in distress, so she'd assumed her initial assessment had been faulty.

She'd been wrong. He was, quite obviously, a fool. When a qualified healer was mere minutes away, who decided to cast a healing spell they clearly had no experience casting? If he had been concerned about Potter's pain, why hadn't he cast a Numbing Charm and waited for her to do the rest?

He'd flipped a coin with a boy's health, and it had failed spectacularly. Was that what he'd done with all his encounters? Perhaps the things he wrote about were only a small snippet of what he tried to do. Perhaps there had been many more situations where he had failed spectacularly due to a stunning lack of forethought.

If there was one thing Poppy hated above all others, it was someone pretending to know more than they actually did.

That was the day she lost all interest in Gilderoy's escapades.

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A/N: Prompt: Skele Gro


	72. Poppy

Poppy had never been much of a duellist. Back at Hogwarts, DADA had been her worst subject; the practicals had been beyond her, and many a late-night cramming session had gone into keeping her marks high enough to pass. When she'd finally finished school, her main feeling had been relief that she would never have to sit through a DADA lesson again.

So when the battle broke out, there was never a question of her joining the fighting. While she knew an extra wand would have been appreciated, she would have done more harm than good. Instead, she gathered a small group of students with an aptitude for healing to assist her in aiding the injured.

Where possible, they intervened, saving who they could and comforting those they couldn't. They helped the other side's injured as well, although she refused to do so until they had been disarmed, and she promptly moved them and secured with an Incarceration Charm afterwards. Her job was to help, but she refused to put enemy soldiers back on the field.

'We should be doing more,' Terry said as they moved into a room once the brunt of the fighting had moved on.

'We are,' Poppy replied.

With a few quick spells, they helped to turn the tide against the remaining Death Eaters. Then, they swept through the room, assessing the state of everybody there and setting about doing what they could.

She didn't blame him for feeling guilty about staying out of the line of fire. Many of his friends were out there, and it had to be difficult to be hanging back, waiting until they'd moved on before entering the room.

But they were doing something that others couldn't. By waiting, they had the chance to save lives that would otherwise have been lost, possibly even including those friends he felt guilty for not standing beside.

They had their role, and it was just as important as being on the frontlines.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Terry Boot


	73. Lavender (Alternate)

Lavender never considered that she might not live to see nineteen. Overflowing with Gryffindor confidence and liveliness, she felt invincible. What was joining a secret defence organisation to learn new spells unsupervised or flying around the ramparts of the castle when she was young, magical, and free?

No scrape was too difficult, no hex too dangerous. Anything was survivable with the help of a wand, some friends, and enough gumption.

That never changed. Even as the war loomed overhead, even as it bombarded them with a constant barrage of bad news, she never lost hope. And when she returned to Hogwarts, only to find it much changed under the Carrows' rule, she still held firm in her conviction that they would all survive.

After all, Harry, Ron and Hermione were still out there. How many times had they saved the school, or themselves, against Voldemort? This was just another of those times. It was worse, and it was scarier, but it would be resolved.

The oppressed would be free once more.

So Lavender resisted, hiding the younger students from the Carrows' notice and helping Ginny, Neville and Luna with the new DA. While Ginny taught the group, Neville comforted them, and Luna kept their spirits up, Lavender and Parvati focused on recruitment. They had friends across all four houses, so they knew where most people's loyalties lay and were able to send messages discreetly.

Who would have thought that one of the things the Carrows should've tracked was the spread of gossip across the school? But they, like so many before them, dismissed Lavender. To them, she was vapid, and so she was harmless.

She was determined to make them regret it. Even if they never knew of her involvement, she _would_ make sure they had their comeuppance.

The battle was the first time she considered the idea that the people who had remained at Hogwarts might die, but even then, she didn't extend it to herself.

It wasn't until she was pinned to the ground by Fenrir Greyback that she was hit by just how breakable people were. Far from being invincible, she had been at risk dozens of times that year alone.

Still, in her final moments, Lavender didn't regret anything. She had lived as though she was invincible, and the few short years she'd had had been extraordinary.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Lavender Brown


	74. Hannah (Alternate)

After the war, many of Hannah's friends accepted jobs at the Ministry. Lured by the guarantee of a job and the promise of being able to effect real change, they put down their wands only to raise them again. It wasn't just the wicked who got no rest, it seemed.

A few times, Hannah had wondered whether she should have joined them. They had a real purpose, routing out the last of the Death Eaters and making sure they didn't get the chance to mobilise again. They were doing good for the community and making the world a better place for the next generation.

It all sounded so noble.

The friends who weren't Aurors were still doing something important. Neville was teaching, shaping young minds; Susan was becoming a lawyer, where she could protect the vulnerable; and Ernie was going into politics, where he hoped to make revolutionary amendments. When they looked back on their lives in their twilight years, what would their greatest pride be?

Meanwhile, Hannah was bartending at the Leaky Cauldron, and her greatest ambition was to buy out the business one day. What did that say about her? When _she_ looked back, would she regret not having done more with her life?

Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't; she couldn't say.

All she knew was that bartending made her happy. She liked the patrons for the most part, and the work was fast-paced enough to stay interesting.

Besides, she'd had enough of battles, whether literal or metaphorical. While she respected that her friends were still fighting, for her, that time was over.

Surely, Hannah had already done enough. Surely, she didn't need to do more, be more, give more for her life to be meaningful.

Even if it meant she wasn't as heroic as her friends, she didn't care. Her fight was over, and she wanted it to stay that way.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Hannah Abbott


	75. Amelia

Amelia had never been interested in the bureaucratic side of things. Like most Aurors, her passion had been field work. It promised excitement, and it meant actively stopping crime and helping people in a way nothing else did.

But then her parents, brother, sister-in-law, and nephews were killed in one fell swoop, and everything changed.

At first, it was subtle. In the heat of battle, she took fewer risks, not wanting to leave her remaining brother and sister-in-law alone in the world. She focused on efficiency to reduce the chance of conflict breaking out. She became stricter.

It only got worse after her niece was born. Susan was like a breath of fresh air, bringing the promise of new hope. Amelia wanted nothing more than to see her grow up.

What would her voice sound like? What topics would catch her interest?

The first time Susan said her name was the day she decided to step back from the field. _Aunt_ Amelia. She was her only aunt; her only blood relative outside of her parents. And if Amelia died, Susan wouldn't even remember her.

As determined as Amelia was to make the world safer, she refused to take yet another person away from her.

So she applied for a job with more of an administrative focus, and she gave it her all, just as she did with everything. The first thing she noticed was that her strictness remained, but her fairness returned tenfold.

Over time, she found a way to be just as useful behind a desk, if not more so. Whereas before she could only affect what she and her unit did, she now had the ability to effect more widespread change. She made the most of every opportunity, and she quickly rose up the ranks in the DMLE.

And throughout it all, she was able to be there for her niece and watch her grow up.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Susan Bones


	76. Ron

It had taken quite some time for Ron to move on from the war, if what he'd done could even have been called that. The memories and wariness still lingered around every corner like a thief in the night, and he suspected they always would.

To some, Ron knew, he would still appear vulnerable to the attacks. But they no longer consumed him; he knew how to identify when the threat, and he was able to neutralise it early. And he no longer had to rely on Draughts of Peace to get him through the worst of it.

If this was his new normal, it was survivable. Despite how tough it was at times, he wouldn't have changed anything.

When he was a child, he'd longed to be known. Back then, no price would have been too steep or challenge too tough if it meant being seen as more than just another Weasley child.

Then, he'd met Harry and Hermione. They had become fast friends and had been thrown into dangerous situation after dangerous situation that they only survived due to the efforts of all three of them. The limelight had stayed on Harry, but Ron and Hermione had been illuminated in the process. They'd been seen as less, but they'd still been _noticed_.

For some, that would have been enough. Attention by proxy was still attention, and some people just weren't made for glory on their own merits.

But at the time, it had felt like Harry was raising the already unachievable bar higher. Ron had never been able to compete with his siblings; how could he compete with the _Boy Who Lived_?

Now, looking back, Ron realised how ridiculous he'd been. It had never been about competing, and he'd been a fool for making it that way. He should never have abandoned Harry in fourth year _or_ in the forest, and he should have been more open to friendship with Fred while he'd had the chance.

But while he had his regrets, he was content — not with all the choices he'd made, but with where they'd led him.

He enjoyed the fame and the attention, but most of all, he enjoyed having Harry and Hermione as his friends.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Draught of Peace


	77. Fred

Casting one last Levitation Charm, Fred rocked back on his heels, admiring his handiwork. The boots looked stunning. Pale blue with white soles and wings painted on the sides, they were designed to allow the wearer to hover a few inches above the ground. As a courtesy to taller customers who might not wish to bang their heads against doors, he and George had made the levitation voice-activated.

It was sure to be a hit with the customers. He couldn't wait to debut it.

The boots had little practical use. It could be used to walk over dangerous substances without injury, yes, but that was a very specific and rare scenario, and there were other spells that could be used for the same effect.

But that was rather the point. Fred and George had been focusing on practical inventions lately to help people prepare for the war, but nothing gave him as much of a rush as making something fun just for the sake of it.

That was what his mother had never understood. When they were children, she'd never seen the value in creating for the sake of creating, always pushing them to be serious and work towards jobs at the Ministry like their father.

She was supportive now, and he knew she was proud of their success, but he could still see that she didn't quite _get_ it. Their persistence in making joke products despite the war confused her, as did the fact that there had been a spike in productivity over the past few months.

But to Fred, it made perfect sense. Life wasn't meant to be consumed by darkness and misery; in the midnight hours, people needed humour to light their way more than ever. So the worse the war became, the more people turned to the shop for not just protection, but laughs.

Fred and George weren't organising troops or influencing politics, but they were keeping up morale. In Fred's opinion, that was just as important.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Wingardium Leviosa


	78. Marge

In Marge's opinion, it would have been better for everyone if Vernon had taken Harry to an orphanage all those years ago. His constant disobedience and disruptiveness put a terrible strain on Vernon and Petunia, and it couldn't have been good for Dudley to grow up around someone like that. Even the best of children were easily influenced.

Her nephew was growing into a fine young man anyway, one who did credit to the name of Dursley. But how much smarter and more upstanding might he have been if he hadn't had his cousin around to pull him down?

Honestly, they would have done better adopting a stranger's child. It would have caused quite the stir in the neighbourhood, but at least the creature wouldn't have had anything to do with Lily and James Potter. It was a miracle Harry wasn't a criminal already with parents like his.

Even Harry would have been better off in the long run. After all, he was never going to achieve the same success as his uncle. Why spoil him with a way of living he would never be able to achieve on his own? The moment he was old enough to fend for himself, he would be in for a rude awakening.

'Aunt Marge,' the four-year-old said as he peered down at the book that was open in his lap, 'how do microphones work?'

What sort of ridiculous question was that? What business did a child have asking about things like microphones? What was he trying to do, make his own to embarrass his aunt and uncle further?

'Never you mind,' she snapped. 'You don't need to know how microphones work. You won't ever use one, and you get up to enough mischief as it is.'

Harry looked down, appropriately chastised.

Vernon shook his head. 'I don't know how someone like his mother came from a family like Petunia's.'

'You never find a good egg in a bad dozen, but there will always be bad ones to spoil good dozens,' Marge said wisely.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: microphone


	79. Nagini

'Incarcerous,' Tom said in the bland, coarse language of humans.

The man he'd captured gasped as ropes twisted tightly around him, pushing his limbs together and holding him in place.

'Nagini.' He transitioned smoothly to the melodic hisses of Parseltongue. 'Behold your dinner.'

Without a second thought, Nagini did.

She had never concerned herself with questions of morality. What did it matter whether something was right or wrong or kind or cruel? Humans thought about that enough for all species; as a snake, she had no use for such things. They were mere distractions.

All that mattered was her survival and that of those that were important to her. If an action contributed to that, that action should be taken, no matter what the cost to others. If it hindered it, then it was something to be avoided to the best of her ability. Apart from a few small exceptions, instincts ruled all.

Tom was the only wizard she had ever considered part of her family. It was rare for witches and wizards to like snakes; most would have sooner hurt her than let her be. Rarer still were witches and wizards who had the gift of Parseltongue.

Tom was the rarest of wizards. He was not only willing and able to talk to her, but he wanted her to not only survive but thrive. Promises of a life of safety and convenience fell from his lips like music to her ears. A friend to all snakes, his ideal world included an army of serpents roaming free, sparing those in his favour but otherwise granted freedom to do as they pleased.

So he brought her food that she could kill without risking detection by hunting in public, and in return, she helped him achieve his goals. Right or wrong, kind or cruel, she did his bidding, knowing each person she killed or place she spied on was bringing her one step closer to guaranteeing the prosperity of not only herself but all snake-kind.

One day, Tom was going to rule Britain, and Nagini was going to be by his side.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Incarcerous


	80. Felicity

Felicity scoured through the Ministry's files, searching for any information about any known members of the Order of the Phoenix. The mundanity of the work rankled. It was long, dreary, boring work, and every day, her boss checked in on her progress as if she were a child who needed their work checked.

Her background was in data analysis, so she was used to sifting through large amounts of information quickly. But it had been years since she'd undertaken such a menial task. As the best analyst in her department, she was usually given the more complicated or high-stakes assignments.

Yet they'd pulled her from her job for this, a simple word recognition task that any trained monkey could do.

She'd thought she'd passed the point where she was assigned the boring tasks just because she was the only woman on the team.

Still, the assignment wasn't all bad. Insulting, yes, but pointless, no. After all, it gave her the unique opportunity to be the one to see the files — and to decide what to do with them.

She was supposed to duplicate anything useful regarding known Order members and return everything else to their original place. Instead, she was duplicating mildly useful information about the Order while disposing of anything truly important. Meanwhile, anything even mildly useful about known Death Eaters was being duplicated and slipped into her handbag.

Every day after work, she passed the files she'd collected to Kingsley to do with as he wished.

There was a chance that her actions wouldn't amount to anything. Details about past addresses were fairly innocuous, after all. But there was also a chance one of those addresses housed a Death Eater base, or that the weaknesses listed in a performance review could be used to get an advantage over them.

Checking her watch, she noticed it was nearly time for lunch. Putting the pile of important papers about the Order into a steel dish she'd conjured for just this purpose, she tapped her wand to it and thought, _Incendio._

Within minutes, nothing remained but ash. She vanished the dish and stood, taking the remaining stack to give to her boss. It would be suspicious if she didn't get _some_ results.

Burning the truly important records was a tad ostentatious, but she thought she was allowed to enjoy some dramatics.

After all, fruitful or not, Felicity _had_ been assigned to grunt duty.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Incendio


	81. Seamus

When Seamus woke that morning, he'd assumed it was a day like any other. Everyone's beds had been empty, but it wasn't unusual for him to be the last to rise.

But the moment he walked down into the common room and saw everyone's sombre faces, it had been clear that something was very wrong. Panic had shot through him. How many people that year had lost loved ones at the hands of the Death Eaters? What if something had happened to his mum overnight?

Seamus hadn't known whether to be relieved or devastated when Dean explained what had actually happened. The Death Eaters had broken into the school overnight, and in the ensuing skirmish, Snape had killed Dumbledore.

His mum was safe, which was the most important thing. But even in his worst nightmares, he'd never once considered that _Dumbledore_ could _die._ He'd seemed so unflappable and constant that Seamus had been convinced he'd be there forever.

As the day went on, he learnt more about what had happened the night before. Harry had used the old DA coins to assemble a group to defend the school in his absence. Others had answered the call, including Neville, but he hadn't.

Guilt ate away at him. It hadn't been intentional; he hadn't even known about it. After the group disbanded last year, there hadn't been a need to keep the coin on him anymore. Instead, he'd kept it at the bottom of his trunk, where he could find it if he needed it.

Still, it was hard to accept that there had been a battle just the night before and he had slept right through it. What if it had been worse? What if the school had been overtaken, and he'd woken to Death Eaters in his room?

Before the end of the day, a letter arrived from his mother, demanding that he come home immediately. He refused to leave before the funeral, and later that night, he tracked down the old coin and put it in his pocket.

Seamus refused to be absent when he was needed again.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Seamus Finnigan


	82. Dean

Hogwarts had never been what could be called a safe place. The purebloods and half-bloods might not realise it; for many of them, it was all they'd ever known in terms of schooling.

But Dean had something to compare it to, and he knew it wasn't normal for a school to be so dangerous. Yes, the professors had magic to contend with, but then that just meant they should be more cautious, not less. He never complained; it was more fun that way. But he knew.

Nevertheless, Diggory's death changed things. It had been like a bucket of cold water being poured over his head — the shock, then the cold chill of realising something was wrong, then the darkness as the metal hit.

Before then, the danger was mental but honestly kind of fun. With the exception of the basilisk, nobody was ever seriously harmed, so it became something of a game to see what the next thing was that they could survive.

But the key word there was "survive". It was only enjoyable when he was certain they would make it through. Having a fellow student actually die, let alone one as distant from the main conflict as Diggory, woke Dean up to how bad the situation truly was.

No, Hogwarts had never been safe — but this was different. It was no longer a fun lark, something that shouldn't be allowed but only served to make Hogwarts more unique.

Now, it was serious.

Only, Dean didn't know what to do. He refused to leave Hogwarts; he wasn't going to let himself be chased out. That would only be letting He Who Must Not Be Named win.

All he could do was avoid any major risks — as much as it pained him to do it — and trust Dumbledore to keep the students safe.

For now.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Dean Thomas


	83. Voldemort

Contrary to popular belief, Voldemort rarely used the Imperius Curse long term. It was too much hassle, and it was a waste of energy. After all, why weaken his magic and focus by maintaining several mind control curses when he could charm or threaten people into compliance instead?

The curse still had its uses, of course. There were times when promises and threats failed, or when he needed something a little subtler, or when the task was too urgent for him to waste time the long way. For the most part, however, they were relatively quick or repetitive tasks that didn't require constant monitoring, such as skipping a corridor when doing security checks or assigning all investigations regarding particular people to the Death Eater he'd planted in the Auror department. They were simple enough instructions and were subtle enough that most people didn't even realise they were under it.

Enough people did realise that Voldemort earned a reputation for using the curse to achieve his ends. That started a flurry of panic, with people starting rumours that even his inner circle of followers contained people whom he'd forced into servitude.

It was ridiculous. Who would want weak fools like that in their midst? He wanted people who were strong enough in their convictions to join of their own accord — not just willingly, but eagerly — happily. They were the ones who were worthy, deserving, capable of receiving his trust.

Nevertheless, the rumours benefited him. Losing the element of surprise was outweighed by the gains of the increased fear and uncertainty towards him. His name was spreading, and the people he charmed or threatened into helping him responded quicker now they believed he would use the Imperius Curse to force their hand if they refused.

It wasn't until years later, after Voldemort returned from the dead, that he learnt how his followers had used the rumours to their own ends. They'd insisted he'd cursed them, forcing them to obey his will, as if all that effort would've been sustainable. Even one such as him would not have been able to influence multiple people to that degree, let alone over the span of years. His attention would've been permanently split to the point of snapping.

He'd always known the general populace were halfwits, but perhaps even that had been too generous.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Imperio


	84. Louis

Louis stared at Victoire and Teddy blankly, trying to process what his sister's boyfriend had just said. The words all made sense individually, but _together…_ 'What do you mean, the children of werewolves are taxed more than the general population?'

Victoire huffed and sipped at her wine. 'Ridiculous, isn't it?'

'Apparently,' Teddy said, 'since we _all_ know werewolves are such a burden on society, they should pay for the resources the government spends on keeping track of them.'

'Which makes _perfect_ sense, of course,' Victoire said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. 'So does extending it to apply to their children.'

'We can't let them get away with this.' Louis couldn't _believe_ this. 'We need to do something about it.'

'Like what?' Teddy asked. 'Aunt Hermione has been trying to change things for years and hasn't managed it. What can _we_ do? Two kids just out of Hogwarts and one who's still there?'

'No, Louis' right,' Victoire said. 'We _should_ do something.'

Louis grinned as it hit him. 'We could organise a protest.'

Victoire clapped her hands together in delight. 'Yes, a protest!'

'You want to protest?' Teddy looked between them incredulously. 'Like a march?'

'Well, we are half-French,' Louis said. 'Revolution's in our blood.'

'They're only getting away with this because the people who would care about it don't know,' Victoire explained, ignoring him. 'If we get everybody that would care together and _tell_ them, we might be able to make them listen.'

Louis could tell Teddy was still sceptical. 'I bet I could get a bunch of students to come. We could use a secret passageway to sneak out of the school and Apparate to Diagon Alley before anyone notices. Or if we did it above board, Neville could probably recruit a few professors. And if you can both get a few people from work to join in…'

The siblings both peered at Teddy, waiting for his reply. As much as they had been swept away by the possibilities, he was the person it affected the most, and Louis didn't want to make it difficult for him by going ahead with this if he didn't want to.

'Alright,' he said after a few seconds. 'Let's protest.'

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Louis Weasley


	85. Aragog

'Do not attack,' Aragog said when the figure emerged into the clearing. It was Rubeus, looking worse for wear than the last time he'd entered the forest. 'It is good to see you again, friend.'

Rubeus didn't visit much anymore; his duties at the school kept him away, especially since he hadn't told anyone else about their existence. It was nice to see him, this half-giant who had protected him and given him the chance to have a family.

But Rubeus' eyes were glistening with what the humans called tears, and when he spoke, the words came out with a sob. 'Why?' he asked. 'Jus'... why would you do tha'?'

Ah. It was about the two boys, then — the ones who had looked so delicious but had gotten away. 'I have to do what is best for my family. We will never harm you, but if others enter the forest, I cannot guarantee their safety.'

Rubeus looked stricken. 'Wha' about my family?'

'You have found a wife, then?' Aragog was delighted. Rubeus had brought him Mosag for company, but he had never found someone for himself.

' _Harry_ ,' Rubeus replied. 'Harry's the closest thing I have to a son, and you tried ter kill 'im.'

Aragog hesitated. He knew Rubeus expected an apology, but he couldn't give it. While he would have tried to prevent the attack if he'd known, his children would not have accepted it, and he wouldn't have risked his life to press the issue.

'I didn't know,' he said instead, hoping it would be enough. Rubeus was a good man, and Aragog would always be fond of him; he couldn't give him what he wanted, but he didn't want to hurt him, either. 'They merely said you had sent them to ask about the attacks on the school.'

Rubeus sighed. 'Yer right. Can't blame yeh for what yeh didn't know.'

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'Why? Just… why would you do that?'


	86. Narcissa

Cradling Scorpius against her chest, Narcissa stared down into her grandson's clear blue eyes. He was warm and snug in her arms, and she felt like she could have held him forever. How was it that he had only been born mere weeks ago? It felt like he had always been there.

It was fascinating. When she'd had Draco, her whole world had changed, reorienting itself until everything centred around him. Everything she'd done, everything she'd permitted, had been to give him the best life possible. Prior to that, she had felt uneasy about Lucius' involvement with the Death Eaters. Afterwards, she had supported him fully, convinced it would give Draco the best chance at success.

She'd been wrong in many ways. Not only had the Dark Lord's cause led to a more unstable and less prosperous Britain, but it had endangered Draco himself. By siding with the Death Eaters, she'd taught Draco scornfulness and pride, and by insisting he should be elevated above all others, she'd taught him laziness.

Now, she realised that was another reason her actions had been wrong.

As she played with Scorpius' fingers, she was struck by just how close she'd come to never knowing him. What if she had been imprisoned after all? Azkaban wasn't an appropriate place for a baby. Would she have ever even met him?

That was what she had been advocating for. She had wanted Muggle-born children to be taken from their parents, for them to never know where they truly came from. In pursuit of that cause, Lucius had killed parents and siblings and children. He'd done to others what had so nearly happened to her, and she'd supported it.

No loving parent should ever have their child ripped from their arms.

'I love you,' Narcissa murmured, gently kissing the top of Scorpius' head.

She would be better. For him.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Scorpius Malfoy


	87. Greg

The potion bubbled over and onto the table, drenching their notes. Draco and Greg leapt out of their chairs and tried to salvage what they could of their bags and parchment.

'What did you do?' Draco exclaimed.

'I don't know. I put the feathers in like you told me to.'

Draco looked at him in horror. 'With the stems still on?'

'Yes.'

'You were supposed to cut them off first!'

'You never told me to!' All lesson, just like every other lesson, Draco had been in control of the potion, giving Greg instructions for what to do — to fetch ingredients or cut something or put something in — while he did the more complicated parts. 'How was I supposed to know?'

'You're an idiot,' Draco said, staring at Greg in disgust.

'You're only just getting that now?' Greg shot back, offended. 'You must be a bigger idiot than I am. You told me to do exactly what you said, and that's what I did.'

Draco froze, and Vincent — sitting at the next table over with Millicent — made a strangled noise.

Convinced Draco was about to erupt, Greg winced. He'd been so mad that the words had just fallen out. How many times had Draco put him or Vincent down for their lack of intelligence when he was the one who was friends with them anyway?

But while he still believed the sentiment, he regretted actually voicing it. Draco was proud; he wouldn't forgive such an insult easily. And it was clear that if Vincent had to choose between them, he'd side with Draco every time.

Greg was just about to apologise to keep the peace when Draco laughed. 'You're actually right. You know, maybe there's hope for you yet.'

That was the nicest thing Draco had ever said to him. Perhaps, as much as Draco liked having people fawn over him, it would do Greg good to stand up for himself sometimes.

It was just then that Professor Snape reached them. 'What a pity. I was looking forward to marking the only decent potion in the room. I will give you an average of your marks so far. Since you're finished' — with a sweep of his wand, he vanished the remnants of the potion — 'you may leave for the day.'

Potter, Granger and Weasley glared at them, but Greg and Draco gratefully took the early mark.

Perhaps there were benefits to being an idiot sometimes.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'You're an idiot.' 'You're only just getting that now?'


	88. Rita

Lacey sat nervously as Rita read through the copy she'd written last night. Focusing on the history of the tournament and how Delacour was breaking records by being its first ever female champion, the piece was some of her best work yet.

She hoped her mentor approved of it. Her internship was rapidly coming to a close, and she was hoping to be hired on or at least given a good reference. Having something she'd written published in the Prophet would go a long way in bolstering her résumé.

With a sigh, Rita set aside the article her intern had written and looked at her with distaste. 'Do you even want to be a journalist, Lacey?'

Lacey recoiled. 'Of course! Didn't you like it?'

'Like it? There's nothing to like or dislike about it. It's all... empty. Why do you want to be here?'

'I want to help people find out about the issues that are important.' The answer came out quickly and naturally.

'If you want to teach, become a teacher. Our job is to entertain. If the reader isn't engaged, they're not buying papers, and if they're not buying papers, we're out of business. If you can't give them that, you're a wimp.'

Lacey hadn't heard it put that way before. She knew they had to sell papers, of course, but she'd always thought the most important part of that was providing accurate, important information. 'What do I need to change?'

From the catlike smile on Rita's face, that was the right question. 'Add more Harry Potter. Or, if you can't, add more Hermione Granger. They're who everyone is _dying_ to read about.'

How could she insert Harry Potter into an article about the first female champion in the tournament's history? It would take away from the whole point of the article. 'I suppose I could write about how just like Delacour's breaking records, Potter is, too.'

'Precisely. And what does Granger feel about this similarity? Is she scared that her boyfriend will leave her for the stunning Miss Delacour, or is she too conceited for that?'

That was even further from her original vision for the piece. It was stirring drama for drama's sake. But if that was what the readers wanted — and Rita had the experience to know — then did she have much of a choice? 'I'll see what I can do.'

'You do that,' Rita said, leaning back in her chair. 'This is the best story you'll have the chance to report on in a long time. Do you have any idea how ecstatic I was when Potter's name came out of that goblet? I've been wanting to interview the boy for _years_ , ever since he could talk, but Dumbledore never let me. Now he's a participating champion, we have every right to interview him. Now go; make the most of it.'

Lacey rose to her feet. 'I'll get the revised copy to you as soon as I can.'

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'You're a wimp.'


	89. Bill

'Did you have to do that?' Bill asked Ginny as Fleur hurried out of the living room under the guise of fetching herself a glass of water.

Ginny was able to look positively angelic when she wanted to. 'Do what?'

'Mock the way Fleur speaks.'

'Bill,' his mum said, 'leave Ginny be. She didn't mean anything by it.'

But it appeared Ginny didn't want to be left be. 'I wasn't mocking her. I just like the way she sounds. Eet iz very intéressante.'

If it wasn't for the wicked gleam in her eye, Bill might have even believed she didn't realise what she'd done. But he'd seen that same look in the twins' eyes often enough to know better.

George rolled his eyes. 'Your French is far worse than her English, Gin.'

'Then don't try to copy what she sounds like,' Bill said.

He knew how his family felt about Fleur. How could he not? His mum and sister disliked her, the twins were ambivalent, and Ron was painfully awkward whenever she came into the room.

The only ones who really welcomed her were his dad and Percy, insofar as Percy could be welcoming. Charlie was encouraging enough, but he was yet to meet her in person.

Three out of eight wasn't good enough. If she'd given them a reason to dislike her, he would have understood, but she hadn't. It was just because she was part-Veela — something she didn't even have any control over.

'If it offends her that much, I suppose I can restrain myself.'

Bill rose to his feet. She didn't say it outright, but she didn't have to; she thought Fleur was too sensitive, or rather wanted him to think that. If he believed Fleur was overreacting, after all, he might not step in to help her.

She was wrong — they all were. They were so brave and altruistic and good, yet they could also be incredibly small-minded in their own way.

'I think it's time for Fleur and I to leave,' he said flatly.

'So soon?' his mum asked, disappointed. 'We haven't even had lunch yet.'

'If Fleur isn't welcome here, then I'm not, either.'

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'Did you have to do that?'


	90. Ginny (Alternate)

Ginny clenched her wand tightly in her hand as she approached the locked cupboard. It was rattling from the force of the boggart inside it, and she flinched with every bang against the wood.

'Do you remember what I told you?' Professor Lupin asked from his place just behind and to the side of her — close enough to help but concealed enough that the creature wouldn't get confused.

She nodded.

When he'd asked for volunteers to go first, her hand had been the first to shoot up. They hadn't done many practicals last year under Lockhart's watch, and Ginny was eager to make sure she got a turn. Apparently, boggarts were usually covered late in the second year curriculum. Since Ron's cohort hadn't studied them last year, however, he'd decided to do it early for both year groups.

It hadn't been until she was standing in front of the cupboard, tasked with determining what her worst fear was and how to make it humorous, that she realised what a bad idea this was. She didn't know what form the boggart would take, exactly, but she knew what it would represent.

'Alright, then.' Lupin used his wand to unlock and open the cupboard, and out came —

A diary. A stupid, average, deadly diary.

Ginny raised her wand, searching for something funny to turn it into. A joke book, perhaps? But the _book_ wasn't funny; the _jokes_ were. Something bright and fluffy? Tom would have hated that.

'Is that a _book_?' someone whispered from behind her. 'Is she afraid of studying?'

As she watched, a figure began to emerge from the diary. Her breath caught in her throat. Once, the idea of meeting Tom in person would have thrilled her, but she knew better now. She knew what came next.

Holding an image in her mind, she shouted, _'Riddikulus!'_

The diary turned into a party popper, with colourful streamers shooting up out of it.

No one laughed. Ginny felt too weary to even smile, and from the chattering behind her, everyone else was too confused.

'Very well done, Miss Weasley,' Lupin said. 'Mr Creevey, your turn.'

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Riddikulus


	91. Dobby

Dobby's chest burned, and he knew he wasn't long for this world. When the swirling stopped, he collapsed, his legs unable to hold him up.

Harry Potter caught him, slowing his fall. 'Dobby?'

He couldn't seem to focus on anything. There was a noise — rushing water. A clear blue sky. Green eyes. A voice talking. Something sharp — his chest — a knife. A knife was in his chest.

Yellow like the sun. Something pressed gently against his head. A soothing voice, a girl's this time.

The pain faded, and Dobby breathed out a sigh of relief. The memories rushed back in, and he slowly started to piece together what had happened.

His shaking hands reached up to touch the knife before fluttering down to rest on his stomach. Pulling it out would only have made it worse, and he wasn't sure he even had the strength anyway. His clothes were stained with blood, and his fingers quickly became sticky with the mess.

'No,' Harry was saying, his eyes bright and wet with tears. 'Stay with me. Luna, where's — _Accio_ Hermione's bag. Dobby, stay with me. Don't go.'

Dobby had done many things for Harry Potter and would have done many more, but that was one thing he couldn't do.

A girl was blonde hair was kneeling down beside them. 'I don't think I can do anything else.'

'Don't… blame…' He closed his eyes, trying to find the energy to finish the sentence. 'Harry… Potter...'

When he received the call, he had rushed to Harry's aid without a second thought. But his actions hadn't been for Harry alone. Dobby knew what the Malfoys were like, having had a firsthand view of their villainy during his time with them. Even if Harry and his friends hadn't been in danger, Dobby would have helped.

'Don't go,' Harry repeated.

Dobby touched his hand.

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A/N: Prompt: Accio


	92. Percy

Percy groaned as yet another explosion sounded from the direction of Fred and George's room. Usually, they used charms to dull the volume, but their parents had gone out for the evening — and with them, apparently, the twins' manners.

When the last school year drew to a close, Percy had created a detailed study plan for the holidays, determined to start his final year at Hogwarts on a good foot. After all, if he was going to get a job at the Ministry right out of school, his marks had to be exemplary.

Perhaps his plan had been too ambitious. He'd tried to factor in the distractions that were par for the course in the chaos at the Burrow, but he'd clearly underestimated the twins' proclivity for disrupting even the best-laid plans.

His head throbbing from a building headache, he grabbed the pain salve he kept in his room for just that purpose and rubbed it into his temples. Before he could return to his reading, however, there was another explosion, this one louder and more troubling.

Unfortunately, as the oldest and most responsible person currently present under that roof, it was his responsibility to investigate the noise. Rising to his feet, he hastened to the twins' room and knocked loudly on the door.

Within seconds, Fred opened it, a grin on his face. 'Yes, Big Head Boy?'

Percy tried to peer into the room, but Fred blocked his view. 'What are you doing in there?'

'Never you mind!' George called out from somewhere behind Fred.

At least that meant both of his brothers were still alive.

Percy sighed. 'Can you keep it down, at least?'

'Did you hear that, George?' Fred said, never breaking Percy's gaze. 'Percy wants us to be louder!'

'We can try.' George appeared in the doorway behind Fred, looking genuinely concerned. 'For you, of course.'

'Why are you like this?' Percy asked, exasperated.

'Goodbye, Perce.' Fred shut the door, and almost immediately, a loud bang rang out.

'Some of us are actually trying to do something productive with our holidays!' Percy shouted before turning and storming back to his own room.

As much as he loved his family, he couldn't wait until he was old enough to move out.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'Why are you like this?'


	93. Ludo

The sun hung high in the sky as Ludo walked through the grounds of Hogwarts. It was odd to be back after being away for so long; the places that had once meant so much to him had lost some of its appeal. Still, it was rather nice to visit the pitch where he had forged his love of Quidditch through hundreds of hours of practice and games.

'Bagman!' a familiar voice called out.

Without looking over his shoulder, Ludo sped up his pace. He had been trying to avoid the Weasley twins ever since he lost the bet to them at the Quidditch World Cup. Their wager had been ludicrous, so he'd bet high, knowing it would be an easy sweep.

Better men might have refused to accept the money of schoolboys, but Ludo rarely let morals keep him from what he wanted. Instead, he'd decided to teach them a lesson. They were too young to be gambling; they needed to learn the hard way that if they accepted a stake, they had to accept the consequences.

How was he to know that Ireland would win but Krum would catch the Snitch? How was he to know that instead of earning some much-needed galleons and teaching them a valuable lesson, he'd be sinking himself further into debt?

'Bagman!' The voice was closer now, and a few people nearby turned at the sound.

There would be no outrunning them, then. Turning, he grinned at the two redheads who were rapidly catching up on him. 'What great timing! I need ice.'

The two Weasleys looked at one another in confusion.

'Ice?' one of them asked.

'We need to talk to you about — '

'We need it for the first task,' Ludo cut in. 'Can you conjure some for me? I'd do it myself, but I'm running late.'

'It'll just take a minute — '

'Excellent. Deliver them to your brother for me, will you?'

Without giving them a chance to protest, Ludo spun on his heel and continued hurrying away. All he needed was to avoid them until the tournament was over, then he would be rid of them.

After all, who would believe them if they claimed he'd paid them in leprechaun's gold?

* * *

A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'I need ice.'


	94. Mundungus

Mundungus knew the other members of the Order of the Phoenix didn't think highly of him or his profession. To them, he was nothing more than a necessary evil. If his connections in the black market weren't so useful, most of them would have happily thrown him out on the street.

But it wasn't as simple as making the decision to stop. Theft was the only thing he was good at; if he stopped, there wasn't anything else he could do instead.

So when Dumbledore died and the Order abandoned Grimmauld Place, he saw an opportunity. That old house was full to the brink of old, valuable objects, any one of which could feed Mundungus for a year. And they were all just sitting there, ready for the nabbing.

Immediately after the house was vacated, he ransacked it. Targeting valuable items that would be easy to flip, he gathered as much as he could carry before leaving for his hideout.

Leaving the rest behind had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but it was safer that way. With the wards down, it was impossible to know when the Death Eaters might set up traps there. For one such as Mundungus, the path of least resistance was the safest one.

It didn't take long for him to start to sell the items. After all, as much as they would have cost to create, they were only valuable to _him_ in the form of galleons. Not wanting anyone to know where he'd found them or how rich they had the potential to make him, he spread them out across his network of fences.

'What's this?' the final fence asked, holding up one of the objects. Despite its tiny size, it was ornate and lined with gold leaf. It was clear that a lot of time, experience and money had gone into its creation.

'It's a thing,' Mundungus said confidently.

She frowned. 'A what?'

'I don't know,' he admitted. He'd grabbed it because of its obvious value, but he honestly had no idea what it was or what it was used for. 'A thing. But it has the Black family crest on it. You said you have a buyer who's looking for things to connect them to the Black family.'

'I do.' She raised it to the light before nodding to herself. 'I'll buy it.'

Mundungus knew he would never be welcome back into the Order if anybody found out about this, but he didn't care. It was unlikely anybody would notice, and even if they did, it wasn't much of a loss.

Besides, this was his life. It had been the case before he became involved with the Order, and they should have known it would continue to be the case after his involvement ended.

If they didn't realise that, that was on them.

* * *

A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'It's a thing.' 'A what?' 'I don't know. A thing.'


	95. Igor

The building creaked, and Igor gripped his wand tighter. The Illumination Charm cast a dim glow, giving off just enough light to see the room. He was ready to negate the charm at a moment's notice, both to conceal himself and to free his wand up for him to go on the attack.

There wasn't much to see. Dingy and decrepit, the abandoned building had seen far better days.

Igor had never thought he might one day be reduced to squatting, but it was his best option. After fleeing Hogwarts, he'd crossed to the continent and bought a broom to fly to Romania. He wanted to put as much distance between the Dark Lord and himself as he could, but he couldn't risk returning to Serbia; it was too obvious. Since he spoke passable Romanian, that seemed like the next best option, especially since he had friends there whom he could trust to hide him.

The issue was that it was a long journey by air, so he needed to make frequent stops to eat, sleep, and refresh himself. He loathed every second he spent on the ground, knowing it was one more second the Dark Lord had to catch up with him, but the breaks were necessary. There was no use falling off his broom right outside of Bucharest because he was too weary to hold on any longer.

He'd stolen some food from the kitchen before he left, so he was able to eat in the air. But since he didn't want to draw any attention to himself by showing his face in public, his only choice when he needed a rest was to squat.

Hence Igor's current unsavoury environs.

Nevertheless, he needed to sleep. If he didn't, there was no point stopping in the first place. Trusting in his wards to tell him if anyone stepped foot on the property, he extinguished the light and set an Alarm Charm to wake him in six hours' time.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Lumos


	96. Cormac

'I don't get it.' Fuming, Cormac paced his dormitory, pushing through his limp. 'I was at the top of my game. How did I miss that last block?'

His hands clenched into fists with the desire to hit something; the only thing that held him back was the knowledge that it wouldn't help. Giving into the urge to kick the stone wall was the reason his foot was smarting, after all.

He'd been practicing for _weeks_ — everything from tossing a Quaffle to himself to hone his ball skills and reaction time, flying around the hoops to increase his agility, and dragging his friends out to the Quidditch pitch to put it all together. When he'd lined up with the other hopefuls that morning, he'd been prepared and ready to smash any trial.

It had all paid off, with him playing the best game of Quidditch he ever had. His instincts had been razor-sharp, and his grip on the ball had been sure. Yet at the end, when it had mattered the most, he'd choked. He'd _flown the wrong way_ like a beginner.

'And how did I lose to _Weasley_?' That was the part that stung the most.

Weasley was actually why Cormac had decided to try out. After years of losing out to Wood, he'd given up on making the team, but seeing Weasley's shabby performance last year, he'd known he had a chance after all. The boy had made some brilliant saves, but his games had been inconsistent at best. It was clear that the good things he did came down to pure luck.

'Cormac,' Craig said, a book on healing open in front of him. 'I need to heal your foot. Lie down.'

'I can't sit still for longer than three minutes,' Cormac replied. 'What makes you think I can _lie down_?'

'The more you walk on that, the worse it'll get.'

Cormac considered that. Staying still was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew he'd regret it the next day if he didn't. Besides, if he had even the slightest chance of usurping Weasley's position, he didn't want the injury to hold him back.

'You're right.' He moved over to his bed and sat down against the headboard, stretching the injured leg out in front of him. 'But I just don't understand what happened.'

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'Lie down.' 'I can't sit still for longer than three minutes. What makes you think I can lie down?'


	97. Xenophilius

'What's your favourite magical creature?' Xenophilius asked as they waited for the meals to arrive.

The woman sitting across from him was fairly beautiful, with short black hair and piercing eyes. So far, however, there was no spark. His cousin had set them up on this date, claiming that Luna needed a stepmother. It was clear that Cindy was someone he thought Luna needed to become "normal", not someone he thought would actually fit into their lives.

'Unicorns.' Cindy hesitated. She quickly hid the reluctance that flitted across her face, but Xeno noticed it. 'What about you?'

'The Teumessian fox.' He didn't even have to think about it. Luna had been enamoured with the story of the fox and the dog lately, which meant he had been, too.

'You're into Greek mythology?' she asked.

'Oh, it's not a myth. Its abilities might have been exaggerated, but I believe it's out there.'

'Have you seen it?'

'Not yet.'

She laughed. 'Then how do you know it exists?'

Xeno knew she thought he was a fool; most people did. 'Have you ever seen Luna?'

'No.'

'Then how do you know she exists? How do you know I'm not just making her up?'

'Because it's _possible_ to see her. Do you really think this is the example you should be setting for her?'

It was _possible_ to see the Teumessian fox, too, even if nobody he knew ever had. But it wasn't worth getting into an argument over it.

Even if the whole world thought Xeno was foolish, he wouldn't care. He was who he was, and he believed what he believed, and he wouldn't let other people's opinions ruin that for him — or for Luna.

His cousin thought Luna would benefit from having a woman's influence in her life, and Xeno agreed. But not if it was just a way of trying to turn her into somebody else.

'Yes.' He stood. 'And I _know_ this is. Enjoy the meal; you're welcome to mine.'

Xeno stopped by the counter to pay for his half of the food, then he walked out without a second thought. It was a shame it hadn't worked out, but he refused to bring someone into Luna's life who would judge or change her.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'Have you seen it?'


	98. Arthur (Alternate)

'How do you function?' Arthur asked, gazing down at the object that Muggles called a telephone.

Muggle inventions were so marvellous — just delightful — yet so complicated. Harry had given it to him for his birthday, and Hermione had spent the better part of the evening trying to teach him how it worked. But while he understood what it did, he didn't understand how it did it.

That had always been his problem. As much as he loved Muggle technology, it was hard to make sense of it when everything seemed to link back to some other, equally incomprehensible subject.

When he first discovered the joys of Muggle artefacts, he'd thought the reason he couldn't understand them was that he had nobody to explain them to him. Most witches and wizards knew no more than he did, and the people who had been raised in Muggle homes always thought he was being condescending. Since he couldn't very well go and ask a random Muggle for answers, that left him with textbooks.

As it turned out, they might as well have been written in another language, for all the good they did him.

Now, it seemed the issue wasn't the lack of a teacher after all. It was the extent of the information he'd have to learn in order to even begin to understand what he was after.

With two grandchildren and another on the way, Arthur didn't have time for the study program Hermione had offered to draw up for him.

It was disappointing, but it didn't dim his curiosity. While he would have preferred to understand the ins and outs of telephones, aeroplanes and air conditioning, not knowing didn't diminish the joy he felt when he saw them and learnt what they could do.

It was enough to know they existed.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'How do you function?'


	99. Phineas

When Phineas stormed into his portrait — as well as portraits could storm somewhere — Albus knew that whatever the former Headmaster had to say was either going to horrify him or be the most amusing thing he'd heard all day.

Phineas paced back and forth inside the frame, shaking his head. 'Those _people_ you invited into my home.

'What happened this time?'

'Granger gave the twins a Muggle book, and now they're going around saying that the world is flat. The _world_ is _flat_!'

Albus leant back in his chair, trying not to laugh. 'I see.'

'I knew Muggle education was behind, but I never imagined it could be this bad. Do all Muggle-borns believe that nonsense? Albus, you must do something! And now Granger is spreading her ignorance to others!'

'Indeed.' Sighing, Albus peered at him over the top of his half-moon spectacles. 'I'm afraid, dear Phineas, that you have been the subject of what could be called a prank.'

Phineas stopped in his tracks and stared at him, his mouth agape. 'This is a poor excuse for a joke!'

'I saw the book in question over Christmas; it was a collection of outrageous conspiracy theories. Some of them were quite ridiculous, so I rather suspect you will be hearing a number of ludicrous things over the coming weeks.'

That seemed to take the wind out of Phineas' sails; he deflated and sat back down in his painted chair. 'Granger and the twins don't believe it?'

'No. Few people do.'

'And we're not at risk of the school being overrun by these ideas?'

'I sincerely doubt it.'

Phineas nodded. 'Very well, then. Nevertheless, I think I will rest here for a few hours before I return.'

'You are welcome to, of course.' Albus stood. 'I must step out for a few moments, but I will be back shortly.'

Somehow, he managed to hold his laughter in until he was standing near the gargoyles outside his office. A few of the students who had decided to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays looked at him askance as they walked past, but he merely smiled and said, 'Find enjoyment in life wherever you can.'

For such an intelligent and well-meaning man, Phineas could be such a blind fool.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'The world is flat.'


	100. Fenrir

Fenrir was in a foul mood when he returned to the camp. He'd decided to associate with the Dark Lord for a number of reasons, chief among them self-protection and revenge on the Ministry. He wanted to be free to live as a werewolf, not to have to restrain himself every full moon for someone else's benefit.

One thing that was certainly not on that list was attending the occasional dinner party at Malfoy Manor.

How little he wanted to be there was bested only by how little they wanted him there — which was why he went. If they wanted his help, then spite drove him to make sure they had to tolerate his presence to get it. Once every few months, he accepted one of their reluctant invites — frequent enough that they knew there was a possibility he'd come, and irregular enough that they had no way of telling which dinners he would attend.

There were other benefits as well. As the Dark Lord's influence grew, Fenrir wanted him to remember the help the werewolves were giving him. The more that people did for him, the more they stood to gain when he gained power.

But even though the dinners were worth it, they were still a pain to sit through.

When Fenrir entered the main clearing, he went straight for the fire and grabbed a chunk of lightly seared deer meat.

'How was it?' Sonja asked.

He dropped to the ground by the fire. 'Boring.'

She eyed the meat in his hand. 'How was the food?'

'Eh.' He grinned at her. 'Not red enough.'

She scrunched up her face in disgust. 'Some people have no taste.'

'I should invite them to some of _our_ hospitality sometime,' he said.

He knew he couldn't; it wouldn't sit well with the Dark Lord. But it would have served them all right, with their fancy manners and snobby looks and overcooked food.

'One day,' Sonja said.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: 'How was the food?' 'Eh.'


	101. The Trio (Alternate)

Casting healing charms on his back, Ron watched as Harry cast a stunner at Hermione, knocking her onto the beanbags they'd laid out behind her. Ron winced; after over an hour of being Harry's target, he knew that while the worst of her fall would have been cushioned, it was still going to hurt when she regained consciousness.

' _Rennervate,'_ Harry said, and Hermione opened her eyes with a groan. 'Sorry. Do you want a break?'

She shook her head. 'We have too much to get through. But you're getting better at it.'

He pulled her to her feet. 'I know I should've started practising earlier. I shouldn't be asking you two to do this for me.'

'You're not asking,' Ron said, 'and we'd never let you go through this alone.'

Meanwhile, Hermione smiled wryly. 'Just hold that thought for the next time I try to get you to study.'

As his friends continued to practice, Ron finished up the charms and then started to read through the pages of spells Hermione had written out for them to cover. There were a lot of them, but they didn't even begin to scratch the surface of what Harry might need to know.

How had Ron ever thought entering the tournament sounded like fun? How had he been so jealous of something that could end up being a death sentence?

He didn't know, but it wasn't important anymore. The important thing was keeping Harry alive long enough to see his fifteenth birthday.

'I think it's time to move onto one of these other spells,' Ron said when Harry had woken Hermione once more. 'You seem to have that one down.'

Hermione shot Ron a grateful look as Harry helped her up once more. 'That's a good idea. There are some really interesting spells on that list.'

'Alright,' Harry said as the pair walked over to join Ron. 'What's next?'

Ron had wondered that himself many times since the trio became friends. Sometimes, it was in excitement; sometimes, it was in dread or exasperation. And just as it wasn't the first time, he was sure it wouldn't be the last.

But it didn't matter. No matter what came next, whether the question was asked out of excitement or dread, they would get through it.

Together.

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A/N: Build A Zoo prompt: Rennervate


End file.
